Buddy Guard
by Prolixius5
Summary: Where does the frontier between sanity and illusion stand? Are we really what/where/when we think we are, after all? A mystery fic, from Here ... & There. You'll understand soon enough. Essential OC. Enjoy the ride! (updated version from former publication - important message in the intro). Pls R&R
1. Chapter 1

_**Dear Visitors, welcome!**_

 ** _This is a story I'd posted several years ago. I had decided to delete it at the time, f_** ** _or reasons which would take too long to explain_** ** _.  
After several years and many expériences in other fandom, I decided to post it again and give it a second chance (somehow encouraged by Barjy; grâce te soit rendue, Dearest!).  
Yet, behind the posting of this fanfic there lies another project. And here is what you - dear readers - have the most precious role to play in this adventure. I remember I worked quite a bit on the script of this story. Yet never really 100% satisfied. Therefore, I'd REALLY love to know what you think of it, I'd love to read your critics on any point, suggestions you may have, if you love it or not, what you consider is missing perhaps, anything..._**

 ** _I'll post one chapter a week, possibly on Wednesday (I'm pretty busy on other issues + RL ones). So stay tuned, I promise I'll try to stick to that schedule._**

 _ **Needless to remind each of those who will do me the honor to read**_ **and** _ **comment, that reviews are the most precious substance in the universe to me.  
So I'm eager to read your feedback.  
I hope you'll enjoy the ride... . Be warned: it's a long one (more than 40 chapters)!**_

 _ **Love,  
Lyxie**_

* * *

 **The Buddy Guard**

 **by Prolixius5**

 _(all my gratitude to Provence for her patience and great BR on the first publication)_

Prologue

He tried to convince himself he was just too tired and imagining all of it. But it didn't work out.

When he was trying to concentrate on anything, he always experienced that weird sensation. He thought about asking for a sick leave, because he was not even sure of being able to react properly when on duty. He was seriously doubtful about his capacity to be a suitable back-up for his partner.

He knew Starsky had felt something was wrong, yet his partner hadn't been able to understand what was eating him.

He didn't seem to be able to comprehend it himself either. He was getting scared. What could have triggered all this? The mission they were on was not new stuff to them. No stressful girl friend to blame either. Their Captain had never been so nice and relaxed. Then what?

He closed his eyes. There it was again! He opened his eyes, headed for the kitchen and tried to focus on fixing a nutritious drink. He stood in front of the sink, motionless, trying to remember the ingredients he needed. His hands started to shake and the glass he was holding fell and broke into the sink. He stared at the damage and suddenly lifted both hands to his temples.

"Stop it!" he was shouting in despair.

He thought he was losing it for good this time.

"Please, leave me alone!"

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He fell on the kitchen floor, submerged by the sensation he was being watched, again.

"Pleeeease, leave... me... alone!" he cried out loud.

He felt no one could help him. He could not tell Starsky. He could not tell the doctor. They would all think he was going crazy. Because the reason why he felt so helpless was unbelievable.

He was hearing voices. Loud and clear. In his head.

Well, not voices.

ONE voice.

A female voice.

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(to be continued)

 _Well? Hope I managed to get some of you hokoed already :-)_  
 _Thanks for joining me on this adventure._

 _See you next week..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi everyone,  
**_

 _ **Thanks to all who have visited the prologue. I hope I got a few of you pretty well hooked. Here is the second chapter. Warning: you may not find a clue of what's happening to Blondie before a little while. Hope you can hold your breath a bit more.** **  
**_

 _ **Acmabry, Rosey Malone, JudithG41, Litany Riddle: thanks a lot for the reviews! I hope to see you again after this second chapter, as I hope to read from many more... I'm always in desperate need of vitamins... i.e. REVIEWS ;-) :-)**_

 _ **Love to all,  
Enjoy the ride!  
**_

 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

Hutch had been cranky all morning. He had been acting this way for several days now yet Starsky had no clue about what had triggered it in the first place.

The taller detective seemed irritated, tired, jumpy and ill, all at once. However, most of the time, he remained silent, more than usual, and kept eluding his partner's questions, which was beginning to get on Starsky's nerves.

"What's the matter, Blondie?" the latter finally asked worryingly.

"Huh..." was the only reply he received.

"Dammit, Hutch!" Now Starsky became really angry. "Will you tell me what's bothering you so much that you don't answer me when I speak to you, you seem a million miles away most of the time? And you look like shit! Are you ill?"

"N... no."

"And I would appreciate more than a one or two-word answer when you finally open your mouth!"

Hutch began to realize he had been... well... not himself lately.

"Sorry, Starsk, it's just that..."

He looked around him, feeling like he was being watched. But all the other officers in the room were busy attending to their respective duties. Starsky was the only one paying attention to him and showing an intense concern. He was sitting on the back of his chair, as usual, giving the impression he was relaxed, but his face showed just the opposite. Hutch finally found some excuse to explain his recent odd behavior.

"I have had these terrible headaches all week and...well, I tried some painkillers, but they don't seem to do any good and..."

Starsky felt his partner was about to add something, but was holding it back.

"And? Hey, Buddy, don't shut me out; I'm your friend, right? What's eating ya?" Starsky's voice was less aggressive now.

Hutch gave his partner a thankful look; he was obviously fighting the pain, Starsky could see that in his partner's eyes.

"I don't know, Starsk, it's like a permanent echo in my head."

"An echo? Hutch, have you been drinking too much?"

"No! I wish I had. That would be like going through one of our hangovers. At least I would understand the cause."

"Then what?"

"I told you, I don't know!" Hutch roared.

"Hey, it's me, take it easy. Have you been to the doctor's?"

"No."

"What are you waiting for? You've felt bad long enough. What about taking the afternoon off to go and see a doctor and then rest a little?"

"Yeah... maybe."

"No _maybe_ , Buddy, RIGHT NOW! I'll tell Dobey you're not well. You'd better go now and take care of this before it gets worse or before I kick your ass hard enough to catapult you straight to the doctor's office...OK, just kidding... Maybe it's the flu?"

"It's not."

"How do you now?"

"I ..."

"See? Get outa here. I'll drop by tonight to check on you."

Hutch stood up in a slow and calculated motion. He grabbed his jacket and faintly smiled at his partner.

"Thanks, Buddy."

"Anytime. Gee, Hutch, you really look miserable! You want me to drive you back home?"

"No thanks, I'm gonna be fine."

"As you wish. You take care, OK?"

"Yeah."

Hutch's voice was so faint that Starsky hardly heard the last word.

"See you tonight." Starsky said.

"See ya."

Starsky watched as his partner slowly headed to the exit and frowned as he wondered what had got to his friend. It was the first time Hutch had kept silent for so long. He was worried about him, his pale face and his way of staring in the void all the time, so often absent-minded that Starsky was beginning to Wonder whether his partner was going deaf.

He promised himself to check up on him later that day and resumed the slow and painstaking typing of his daily report.

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 _The next day..._

Everybody knew Hutch was the introverted type. He never showed his deepest feelings that easily. Yet right now, he seemed to have a hard time hiding his moodiness.

Both detectives had been investigating a difficult case for a few weeks. When, at first, Dobey had called them into his office to announce their new assignment, Hutch and Starsky hadn't been very enthusiastic about it.

"Two weeks ago, the body of Marcie Brown, aged 27, was found by one of our patrols. And last week, another one, Abby Spencer, 28, found by two young recruits."

"Is there a connection between them?" Starsky asked.

"That's up to you to find you, I guess." Dobey replied with a bit of an ironic tone. "The bodies were found in different areas of town and there are no clues whatsoever to who or why right now. They were both abandoned in a park, their bodies almost naked, hidden in a bush. The coroner thinks that the girls may have been drugged before their throats were cut."

Both detectives shivered at the same time. Dobey took a deep breath and lowered his eyes.

"Anything else?" Hutch asked, as if he somehow suspected that Dobey hadn't told them everything yet.

Dobey sighed, looking at the file in front of him.

"Yes, there was a mark on their chest, like someone had tried to draw a weird design with a knife, a drawing resembling a crescent moon."

"What?" Starsky suddenly found it difficult to swallow.

"Sounds like the beginning of a ritual killing series." Hutch said, with an anguished voice.

"I'm afraid so. Finally, they also found a message on their heart, stuck in the bra. Here, read this!" Dobey said, extending a piece of paper to Hutch, who was sitting closest to him.

The tall detective took it, but couldn't induce himself to read it aloud. Instead, he handed it to Starsky, who read: " _Desemboscará impostores y liberará los ángeles_ ".

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Hutch said, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "Why does that remind me of Papa Theodore?" Starsky whispered.

"I can assure you, it has nothing to do with him. Papa Theodore was arrested again last year and was found dead in his cell. Heart attack, they said." Dobey was beginning to sweat more than usual.

"Oh yeah? I didn't know he was dead." Hutch said. He seemed genuinely relieved by the news. All his memories of their trip on Playboy Island had turned into nightmares when Papa Theodore had entangled him and his partner into some delusion at the end of which he had tried to strangle his partner to death.

Meanwhile, Starsky was reading the note again and said:

"It's written in Spanish. It says _The imposters will be found, and the angels will be liberated..._ Shit, what is this crap?" he grunted.

"Who is this weirdo?" Hutch mumbled, slumped on his chair, though the look on his face indicated he was more worried than he let show.

"I have no idea!" Dobey shouted, making both his detectives jump, and pointing his index finger aggressively at them, his elbow resting on his desk. "But I want both of you to take it up from here and find this maniac! That's what you're paid for! That's why I'm putting you on the case, because you're my best option. So hit the streets, and I mean NOW, instead of sitting comfortably in my office, with your sneakers on my desk!"

It wasn't the first time that Dobey had sounded sharp; this time it was probably because it looked like there was a serial killer on the loose. Starsky quickly got to his feet and glanced at Hutch. The blonde was staring at the floor, like he was hypnotized when in fact, he too was remembering the events on Playboy Island which almost led to their death.

"C'mon, handsome!" Starsky said, putting his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "We've got a job to do."

Hutch stood up painfully, looking almost like a zombie and followed his partner to their desks.

Starsky was already busy reading the files of the girls who had been murdered. Without looking at his friend, he started to comment out loud.

"Jeez, I don't believe this. They were only 27 and 28, between 5'7 and 5'9. And looking at their pictures, they were both gorgeous chicks. What do you say we go and talk to their relatives and friends, huh?"

Hutch was sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples with his fingers in slow circular movements.

"Hutch?"

"Hmmm, yeah. OK."

"Are you feeling all right, Buddy?"

"Yeah, just another headache."

"Did you go to the doctor's?"

"No. I was too tired last night. Went straight home and hit the sack."

"Blondie, have you looked at your face in the mirror this morning?"

"Why?"

"You look like you haven't had a decent night in weeks. I'm really worried, ya know. I've never seen you like this."

"Don't worry. I'm gonna be fine. When this is over, I'll take a day or two off and catch up on my sleep."

"I don't think that'll be enough."

"Starsk. I'll be fine."

As he spoke, Hutch took one of the files and started to read. Starsky didn't say another word but he was feeling more concerned than ever. He had never seen his partner so secretive and reluctant to confide his feelings, at least not for so long. They had always discussed about everything, even about their girl friends and what they liked, about the way they were spending their time with wild ones or comforting shy ones. All in all, they hardly had any secret from each other. Yet today, something was eluding Starsky. He felt like Hutch was keeping him outside.

And this was making him feel very uncomfortable.

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(to be continued)


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello Everyone!**_

 _ **Thanks for your visit. I can see the number of readers slowing growing and it makes me so proud.**_

 _ **Judith Goodger: I'm afraid you'll have to wait just a little to know if Papa Theodore is really behind all this.**_

 _ **MaryEllen309: don't worry, they will keep coming ^_^, a lot of 'em!**_

 _ **Acmabry: as Judith, you'll have to be patient. Thanks, I'm being careful; weather's not too kind here but nothing dangerous :-)**_

 _ **Rosey Malone: it's been a while since I dealt with the boys and I love to be the witness again to their special bond. Thanks for being faithful. Keep digging into this, Dearest :-)**_

 _ **Litany: je suis heureuse que tu t'accroches! Pourquoi les filles ne seraient-elles pas mignonnes? Faudra attendre la suite pour savoir le pourquoi du comment. Et puis, concernant leur relation, ça ne va pas dans le sens que tu subodores peut-être. Mais tu sais qu'ils ont toujours été très protecteurs l'un envers l'autre, très "tactile" même à certains moments. Je te rassure, ça n'ira pas dans le sens que tu penses. Et puis le fait que le blondinet soit très mal dans sa peau et que l'autre soit très inquiet pour son copain fait qu'ils sont tous les deux sensibilisés par une enquête qui leur échappe peut-être pour la première fois... à suivre. En tout cas, mille mercis de ta présence et de ta critique. C'est exactement ce que je voulais... Kissou.**_

 _ **And now, "en route" for the next one!**_

* * *

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When Hutch arrived at Venice Place late in the evening, he felt completely exhausted. He had managed to get an appointment with the doctor, as he had promised Starsky. He painfully climbed the stairs to his apartment and, without even taking his jacket off, crashed on the couch.

All morning, he had felt like his head was about to explode and when Starsky started to question him again and again, he had done all he could not to be aggressive. The pain wasn't that excruciating though. There was something else, something he didn't want to talk about, to anyone, not even Starsky.

It has started about two weeks before. And it was more persistent every day.

It usually began when he woke up and lasted until he fell asleep late at night. But then, something else was happening. And THIS was beginning to scare him a little. More than a little actually.

Over the last few years, the job had taken a high toll on his health and mental balance. Both Starsky and he had been hit, tortured, drugged, shot at a couple of times. They had lost loved ones because of freaks. They had been hurt, sometimes critically. They had fought the bad guys. They had to kill. But through it all, there had always been a strong connection between them, protecting them from the worst outside, a sixth sense telling one when the other was in danger.

Yet, this time, Hutch felt that what he was going through was totally different from anything he had experienced before.

This time, he couldn't tell Starsky.

Because this time, he was damn sure he was losing his mind.

When the doctor asked him to describe what he felt, Hutch explained the headaches, the hard time he had going to sleep, the occasional nausea, even outside of mealtimes. But he didn't tell the true reason why he thought he was losing it.

He took the prescription and bought the pills on his way home. He just hoped that the treatment would help.

He stood up, took his jacket off and took the pills from his right pocket. The doctor had prescribed one in the morning and one in the evening. Hoping to get rid of the headaches as soon as possible, the blonde took two of them and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. Then he went back on the couch and closed his eyes.

" _Talk to me._ "

 _Here it comes again_. He refused to listen, pressed his hands against his temples, but it was still there.

" _Talk to me, please."_

Hutch pressed his hands harder and started to cry in silence. All he wanted was this echo to stop.

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The murder cases Dobey had assigned to his best and favorite detectives became a challenging nightmare when a third girl was found dead, in the park, almost naked, with the same mark on her chest and the same note in her hand.

The Captain had called his men as soon as he heard them enter in the squad room, before they even had the chance to sit in front of their desk.

"Hey, the Leisure Twins, in my office, RIGHT AWAY!"

The detectives almost jostled each other to get there first. He extended the file in front of him.

"Roxy Grant. Age 28. 5'8. Brunette. Same scenario as for the other two. That's three in a row!" he said in a very irritated tone.

Starsky took the file and read the first page. Hutch frowned and acted as if he was trying not to hear the faint echo he had been hearing lately.

"So you'd better get your butts out of here and find this wacko before all the brunettes in town either barricade themselves at home or simply leave town for good." Dobey shouted.

He looked at Hutch and went on.

"And you'd better do something about the way you look. If you're sick, just say so, go and see a doctor and do something about it! If not, get a grip and get to business!"

Starsky thought Dobey was a bit too aggressive this time. Hutch hadn't been a hundred percent these days, all right, but he also felt his Captain was too hard on him.

"Don't worry, Captain. Blondie and I are on it. We'll find this wacko... C'mon, Blondie!... See, Captain, we're already gone!" Starsky said as he pulled Hutch by the sleeve and dragged him out of Dobey's office, before slamming the door shut with his foot. He heard Dobey groan behind the door, but right now he was more concerned about his partner's well being than his Captain's humor.

"Hutch.. you know, the Captain's right, you look dreadful. What did the doctor tell you?"

"Huh... probably fatigue... he gave some pills."

"Why don't you take a day off and catch up on your sleep? I can manage today on my own, ya know."

"Naah, it's gonna be all right. I'll just skip the evenings at the Pits for a little while and go to bed early; this should do."

"I'm really worried, partner. I've never seen you like this, even after the hell we have been through sometimes. Tell me what's bothering you, babe, please, let me in, will ya?"

"Don't worry, Starsk, I'm gonna be OK. Just tired. That's all."

Starsky put his hand on Hutch's shoulder and stared at him.

"If there's anything too hard for you to face alone, you know you can count on me, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"If I can help, you will tell me, right, _partner_?" Starsky insisted a bit more, hoping Hutch would open up his heart to him.

"Yeah... sure... I... will." Hutch answered, giving his friend a quick side-glance.

"Okay, then."

Starsky gathered the files of the three dead girls on his desk and went on with a gentle voice.

Hutch tried to concentrate on the regular duties as much as he could. But before the end of their working day, Starsky realized his Partner was no good as he was anymore.

"Go home, Pal. Take whatever the doctor gave you and get some sleep. I'll deal with the boss, don't worry."

Hutch stood still for a moment, thinking about what he should do. He finally grabbed his jacket and left without another word.

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At night, Hutch felt even more depressed and exhausted and was unable to concentrate on anything else than the throbbing sensation he was feeling in his temples.

When he had left the Precinct, he went straight back to the doctor's, without an appointment, determined to ask for a more thorough examination than the one he had gone through the day before.

The doctor was a bit surprised to see him again so soon. However as his patient looked even more in pain than during his first visit, he accepted to see him again.

"I gave you something yesterday, Mr. Hutchinson. You should wait at least a couple of days before expecting some results." said the doctor.

"I don't care. I need something stronger and faster and..."

Hutch slowly rubbed his right temple. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"This has been lasting for a couple of weeks. I need... to get better... fast. Or else, you haven't told me everything, Doc?"

"Why do you think I would hide anything? You told me about your headaches. Is there anything YOU havent' told me yesterday?"

"Huh, I... there is some sensation... a pressure... in my head..." Hutch whispered. He couldn't find the words to express what he was going through without sounding crazy.

"Do you feel some sharp pain... dizziness?"

"No. Well not really. It's..."

The doctor wrote something on a sheet with his practice letterhead and handed it to the detective.

"OK, if it will do you any good, we'll go through some deeper exam. I want you to go and see this colleague; he will carry out a few detailed examinations."

Hutch took the paper and read. The colleague was actually a radiologist.

"What do you think it is, Doctor?"

"I don't know, Mr. Hutchinson. That's why I'm sending you to my colleague. He will run some X-rays of your head."

"And then what?"

"Then we will know for sure there is nothing serious."

"How would you know there is nothing serious?" Hutch replied in an exasperated voice.

"Because I've been your doctor for years and it seems to me you have all the symptoms of a highly stressed patient: too much work... not enough sleep. What you need right now is total relaxation for a couple of days. The sleeping pills I prescribed will help you. Just give your body a chance to catch up, Mr. Hutchinson."

Hutch read the paper again, as if he wanted to convince himself it was what he really needed for now.

"OK, I will make an appointment with your colleague."

"Good. He may not be able to set up an appointment immediately. In the meantime, I want you to take those pills I gave you and rest as much as you can, all right?"

"Right. Thanks, Doctor."

Hutch stood up slowly, feeling like he had aged ten years during the last two days. He shook hands with the doctor and walked out of the office with a heavy step.

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(to be continued)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hi everyone!**_

 _ **Thanks for the visits and reviews. I know it sounds creepy for Hutch but we'll get to the bottom of this, I promise... not yet though. You'll learn I love to play with my characters like cat with a mouse. I know, it's cruel (for those who want to know how far I can go, read and weep on "One hell of a road to Christmas")**_

 _ **My gratitude to Litany for her analysis. This is exacly what I wanted: a detailed commentary of what's good, and what's awkward.  
I told you from the beginning, I'd love to read some feeback, not only on how you feel reading this, but also on what you think of the construction of the stories and the characters.  
Litany, Merci infiniment pour ces petites analyses: je sais que je peux compter sur toi pour décortiquer les maladresses de mon scénario et c'est vraiment avec plaisir que je te lis à chaque chapitre. Entre parenthèses, désolée (un peu? si peu? LOL) de faire souffrir Blondinet. Mais tu connais mon goût pour le angst... Je puis te dire que ce sera quand même moins affreux que dans la série Christmas, promis... à moins que...**_

 _ **Also a big thanks to those who took the time to write a few words. Please don't hesitate to describe what you think of the script as I go along:**_

 _ **Rosey Malone (patience my dear, you'll see, Wednesday'll be there soon)**_

 _ **MaryEllen309 (you have no idea where this is gonna lead us, I hope you can hold your breath for a while /*wink*/).**_

 _ **And now, en route to the next chapter!  
Luv,  
Lyxie**_

* * *

The next morning, Hutch wasn't feeling any better and he called Starsky to tell him he wouldn't be coming in. He then called the specialist and, to his surprise, had an appointment the very same day, because another patient had cancelled at the last minute.

A couple of hours later, when all examinations were performed, he got back to the waiting room, while the X-rays were developed, anxious about what the radiologist might have discovered. He thought with anxiety of a colleague, married, father of two, who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had died just a few months ago. He started to sweat and shiver.

 _What if I have a tumor or some shit like that? Supposing these headaches are the sign of something very bad, eating me from inside and I never paid attention before?_

Hutch suddenly thought of all the things he had wanted to do. Maybe he wouldn't have enough time left after all. Maybe his life was about to end abruptly and this made him feel a wave of sudden panic.

 _I should have enjoyed more of it. I should have let go from time to time, instead of keeping it all inside. Starsky and I have been through tough times, we almost got killed at least once each. God knows we had our share. But dammit, I don't wanna leave now, leave Starsky and everyone. There must be some mistake, this can't be happening._

There was no reason yet to panic; however, he couldn't refrain from letting dark thoughts tumbling in his head. He leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees and started to rub his temples again.

After about twenty minutes he was called back in; they were the longest twenty minutes of his entire life.

The nurse had called him twice already but he hadn't reacted.

"Mr. Hutchinson!" she called louder for the third time.

Hutch was suddenly petrified. Then, gathering what was left of his energy, he slowly and painfully stood up and followed her to the radiologist's office.

The doctor was sitting in front of the lighted view box, his attention totally focused on the X-rays that had just been prepared.

Hutch sat on the visitor's chair, in front of the doctor's desk and waited, his head full of apprehension about the verdict that was about to be pronounced.

The doctor twisted the stool he was sitting on the face the detective. He seemed relaxed and there was even a smile on his face.

"Mr. Hutchinson, I carefully examined the X-rays we have just taken and..."

 _This is it, now the truth, hang on, Hutch, and get a grip... Here is the news..._

"There is absolutely nothing wrong as far as I can see."

Hutch was still breathing deeply. He had been so nervous about hearing the news that he didn't react at first. Then, he slowly raised his eyes and looked askance at the man in a white blouse sitting just two meters away from him.

"Mr. Hutchinson, there is nothing wrong with your head. You - are - fine!" repeated the doctor, emphasizing each word and looking hard at the blonde detective.

Hutch gaped and let out a long breath.

"Are... are you sure?" he asked, managing to smile even weakly.

"I'm positive. There must be another explanation for these headaches, but I can assure you the inside of your head is just fine. Did you have a blood test?"

"Huh... yes. They said nothing's wrong either."

"Good. From what I can judge by looking at your tests and from what I've read in your file, there is no medical symptoms of anything suspicious."

The blonde now swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a moment. He felt like he was offered a glass of water after a long journey in the desert.

"Th... Thank you, Doctor."

"You're probably over-exhausted and stressed because of your job. I talked to the doctor you saw yesterday. He told me about you and how anxious you were. Why don't you try to take a couple of days off and go some place where you can forget about the tension for just a little while?"

"Can't. My partner and I have been assigned a difficult case and... well... we gotta take care of it real soon. When this is over, I'll take a week off and ... Well I'll deal about that when the moment comes."

"As you wish. In the meantime, I could prescribe you ..."

"But I've already been given pills to help me sleep."

"Yes. I know. However I will give you something a bit stronger to help you relax, and cope with the stress you're going through. They aren't addicting, no side-effects, and they will help you cope with the tensions you are facing at the moment. But they won't be efficient unless you take them at regular intervals. So you need to stick with the prescribed dosage, do you understand?"

"OK." Hutch's voice had now the obedient tone of a polite school boy promising to behave.

"The bad quality of your sleep is certainly due to the investigation you're dealing with. Is there a way to delegate to someone else?"

"I'm afraid not. But I think I'll manage, now that I'm reassured there is nothing bad up there." he said while rubbing his right temple. "It's only stress... I guess."

"Let's hope you can find a quick solution to this case, and I'm pretty sure you'll get much better afterwards."

Hutch took the prescription the doctor handed him and shook hands for a little longer than necessary.

"Thank you very much, Doctor."

"You're welcome. And... try to relax each time you have the chance to do so."

"I will. Thanks again."

Hutch went back to his car, holding tight the precious X-rays confirming he was free of any malignant little bug. When he finally sat behind the wheel, he couldn't help but let a few tears freely run down his cheeks. Just to let go, if only for a moment.

 _I feel so stupid, look at me, almost crying like a kid. What's got into me? Ok, Hutch, get a grip now! … I'm gonna live!_ he thought with an immense feeling of thankfulness.

He started the ignition and drove back to Venice Place, whistling all the way.

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After a couple of days of the new treatment, Hutch felt little improvement. The only difference was that he fell asleep more easily than before at night. However, he could still feel the echo in his head as soon as he closed his eyes, the voice calling him, trying to talk to him, forcing him to answer.

During the day, every time he remembered how he felt at night, he tried to push it away and concentrate on his tasks. The hardest thing of all was to avoid showing to his best friend and partner that he wasn't a hundred percent operational. He was ashamed to admit it this time. He thought of the times when he wasn't himself; when Gillian occupied his mind and how he failed to cover Starsky's back during a chase. He had frozen in sudden panic, in total blackout, and hadn't been able to respond to his partner's repeated calls for help.

This time, Hutch thought that, should he admit he wasn't his usual self, he could be relieved of duty for a while, yet he didn't want his thoughts to go in that direction... not now.

When Starsky came to pick him up in the morning, he tried to look relaxed and spoke normally, even if he felt his partner wasn't buying it. He knew that Starsky was too good to swallow his lies.

He was glad he didn't have to drive, because most of the time, trying to avoid the echoes in his head made him feel too dizzy to safely concentrate on the road.

Both detectives were silent during most of the journey to Metro. Yet, Starsky always had a hard time keeping silent for more than a few minutes.

"How are you doing, Buddy? How's your treatment going?"

"Huh... okay. I... I finally managed to get a full night's sleep, almost free of nightmares. Ain't it great, huh?"

"Yeah. Still, you have a face that would freak out a ghost. And the worst is, I have a feeling that you won't even tell me what happens?"

"Sorry, Starsk. It's just... huh... I don't even know myself."

"Is it about a girl?"

"No! It's... something else."

"Hutch, I'm worried, you know."

"Don't be. I'm gonna be fine."

Starsky pulled over in front of Central. But instead of jumping out of the car like he always did, he put both hands on the wheel and stared at nothing in front of him for a few seconds. Then he turned to Hutch. His voice was now cold and determined.

"Hutch, I gotta tell you something. This is serious. We have been partners for... what?... more than fifteen years. I would trust you with my life, anytime, anywhere. And I know you'd do the same for me. But... don't take this wrong, okay?... I feel that something has come up you won't tell me about and you don't seem … well it's not like you. You're my friend, Hutch. I gotta know what's got into you."

Hutch felt another sudden wave of dizziness.

"You know, Buddy," Starsky went on, "Not telling me what's eating you could end up jeopardizing our safety, yours and mine. So you'd better get a grip or do something about it. Because I have no intention of losing my partner during missions, or my friend any other time."

Hutch felt the need to grab the door handle to steady his balance. He suddenly felt like he was about to throw up.

Starsky started to panic, as he saw his friend was obviously in pain.

"Sorry, Buddy. I didn't mean to be rough. You... You want me to get you back to the hospital?"

"N... no. I'm gonna be fine. Just gimme a minute, will ya? The doctor told me I had to eat with the stuff he gave me, but I couldn't swallow anything this morning. My stomach isn't too happy with it, that's all."

"You're sure?" Starsky said, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder and gently putting some pressure to let him know he could count on him.

"Starsk, I... don't feel too good. I'd better get back home."

"What about taking you to the hospital instead?"

"Huh... OK... feel... dizzy."

Hutch closed his eyes, trying to avoid the nausea that was menacing right now, swallowing hard and trying like hell not to throw up what he hadn't even eaten for breakfast.

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(to be continued)


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello Everyone ^_^!**_

 _ **I hope you'e survived the last seven days. And I hope you'll forgive this script for being so slow at the moment. Remember, this story was written several years ago and I was not gifted for solid detective at that time (not sure I'm better today but that's another point). Anyway, thanks for all the comments, on and off line. It really helps me pointing what was wrong at the time I wrote this story.**_  
 _ **And thanks for sticking with our heroes... and me, at the same time.**_

 _ **Wishing you all a lovely Wednesday... or what's left of it, for those who are in Europe...**_  
 _ **Lots of love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

Starsky dropped Hutch at Memorial and, when he arrived at Metro, he informed Dobey that he should not count on Blondie for the day. Dobey's face was showing genuine concern. This was not his usual Hutch and he only let a deep and long sigh escape from his chest.

Hutch was programmed for ENT and more blood tests, to check whether his headaches were due to some dysfunction at the ear level or perhaps poor level of oxygen in his blood. The tests all came back negative. Even tinnitus was ruled out after a conversation with the ENT specialist.

After having spent a good part of the day at Memorial hospital, Hutch was allowed to go home in the afternoon. He called a taxi as he didn't want to impose any more of his moodiness on his partner. As soon as he entered his apartment, he hit the couch, closed his eyes and tried to sleep, without taking the time to neither undress nor take a shower.

 _"Talk to me, please, I beg you."_

"Leave me alone! Go away. STOP THIS!" Hutch cried, massaging his temples stronger than ever and closing his eyes even harder, cradling himself in his own arms, searching for relief, trying to obliterate something he could not even see.

 _I gotta do something; otherwise, I'll go nuts for real. There's gotta be some way to get rid of this. I just can't take it anymore._

 _"Why don't you answer me?"_

 _I wish I could stop this echo in my head. I... What's happening to me?_

The blond-haired detective has been a prisoner of dark thoughts quite often lately. After he had been forcefully shot with heroin, many years ago, he had gone through hell, fighting the nightmares, coping with the brutal withdrawal syndrome, hoping he would never become addicted to the stuff again. When his precious Gillian was killed, he had felt like a toy, used and then discarded. She had lied to him. Even if she had decided to leave the comfort of a healthy yet not so legal existence just to spend her life with him, she had been denied that right to choose and had been murdered. His best friend had had his share of mishaps and hard times too. There had been so many more dramas, other disappointments, cruel losses over the years. They always got through together - _Me and Thee_ , as they used to say - but this time, how could he talk about it and not sound a complete lunatic?

He decided to draw the line. Enough was enough. After all the tests and check ups he had performed only to discover there was nothing wrong with this physical health, he started to doubt about his mental well-being. Was he really losing it this time? He had to know. Once and for all. Even if he had never thought he could take a step in that direction, he made an appointment with a psychiatrist. He had to know whether he had really become... mentally disturbed.

At the end of the following working day, he declined Starsky's invitation to join him at the Pits, pretending he was too tired - again - and went straight to the clinic where the psychiatrist was meeting his patients. When he was shown into the doctor's office, he felt uneasy, like the first day at the police academy, so many years ago, he felt like a rookie, unable to master the events swallowing him... The room's walls were painted in light blue, with discreet lighting emanating from small wall lamps. Hutch noticed they resembled half moons turned upward throwing an indirect and softened faint light. The shape of the wall lamps reminded him of the investigation he and his partner were currently working on. He started to shiver but somehow managed to hide his discomfort when he shook hands with the doctor.

"Mr. Hutchinson, I'm Doctor Braun. Please, make yourself comfortable." The doctor indicated a chair in front of his desk while he walked around to sit in his own.

"Thank you." Hutch replied. The chair was more comfortable than he had imagined and he started to relax a little, thinking that he had made the right decision by finally coming here.

The doctor took a blank sheet of paper and started to fill it in the date in the upper right corner. Then he raised his head and looked gently at his new patient.

"I'd like to ask you a few personal questions before we begin. Your complete name is...?"

"Kenneth Richard Hutchinson."

The doctor started to fill in the form in capitals, and went on with this query.

"Date of birth?"

"28 August 1943."

"Place of birth?"

"Duluth, Minnesota."

"Hmm... Long way to Bay City, huh?"

"Yeah."Hutch emitted a long sigh.

"Current employer?"

"I'm a Detective sergeant at the Metropolitan Police Department, Homicide Squad."

"Where do you live?"

"In Bay City. In an apartment... at Venice Place... by the ocean." The doctor was writing without looking at him. When he was done, he raised his head again and took a deep look at Hutch who suddenly felt examined in a more thorough manner than when he went through x-rays exam.

"You live there alone?"

"You mean, am I married? No, I'm not. Why? Is that important?"

"Just asking. Don't worry. Routine questions."

Hutch thought to himself - _no chance of me getting married, each time I approach a woman, either she dies or I end up with the wrong one. Is there one for me out there anyway? Or perhaps there is something wrong with me? Am I cursed, or what?_

"What brings you here today?"

Hutch immediately snapped out of his inner questioning. He kept silent for a moment, staring at the painting behind the doctor's desk representing a snowy mountain landscape reflecting in a quiet lake. For a moment, he imagined himself skiing, alone and free, sliding down an endless slope until he fell into the lake and sank straight to the bottom.

"Mr. Hutchinson? Just tell me how you're feeling right now?" The doctor's voice was soft and reassuring, almost fatherly

Hutch woke up from his reverie and took a deep breath before he started to talk in a hesitant voice.

"I... I think I'm going nuts."

"What makes you to say so?" The doctor's voice was even, calm as if this statement was no surprise for him. _After all,_ Hutch thought, _the majority of his patients are probably not feeling that good, that's why you came here too, so stop pretending and tell him what you feel, that's what you're here for, right?._

"I... hear... voices."

"Hmm..." the doctor replied, writing without looking at his patient.

"In my head."

"Go on." the doctor replied, gently encouraging his patient.

"It's... I don't know how to tell you this." Hutch started wriggling about on his chair.

"Just tell it like it is."

Hutch looked at his hands, firmly grabbing the chair handles. _Okay, let's take the plunge; I gotta get rid of this._

"I hear a voice talking to me." he managed to say in an almost inaudible blow.

"One voice? You said you hear _voices_."

"Actually, there is only one voice."

"How long have you been hearing it?"

"A couple of weeks." The doctor kept writing and nodded.

"And when do you hear this voice?"

Hutch felt that the man in front of him didn't sound like he was going to make fun of him and this made him feel a bit more relaxed. He took a deep breath, let go of the arms of the chair and raised his back, like a weight had been taken from his shoulders.

"Huh... Every day."

"Any time of the day?" the doctor went on, in a low and quiet voice.

"Well, actually no. Almost every time, I can hear it at the end of the day."

"Huh huh... Go on."

"It's calling me out."

"Is it calling you by your name?"

"N... no... it just says "A _nswer me, please_ " or things like that, all the time... Doctor, do you think I'm going nuts?" Hutch was now speaking more quickly, and his breath was suddenly short.

"We're going ahead of ourselves. Just one step at a time. Did you try to answer that voice?"

"Hell no! I... I came here to try and get rid of this!"

"Why do you want to get rid of it?"

"BECAUSE IT'S DRIVING ME MAD!" Hutch shouted, closing his fists in rage and standing up so brutally that the chair fell behind him. Hutch stopped, breathed deeply a couple of times and put the chair on his feet again. When he sat back again, his eyes were full of anger.

"Calm down, Kenneth. May I call you Kenneth?"

Hutch looked at him, a bit surprised. He was about to tell him that he prefer **r** ed to be called 'Hutch', but at the same time he wanted to keep this for Starsky, as a sign of belonging to something special. He looked at the doctor who was smiling at him. Inexplicably he now felt more inclined to trust this man than he was when he first entered his office.

"Yeah... sure." he finally sighed.

"Okay, Kenneth, you came here for a reason. I'm here to help. And I want you to feel free to express whatever crosses your mind. We'll try to find the reason why you're hearing this together. When did it start?"

"I think it started... a couple of weeks ago."

"Did something out of the ordinary happen to you recently?"

"Like what?"

"Like a particular event which could have had an impact on your emotions? A shock of some sort?"

Hutch could only think of the murders case he had been assigned to.

"My partner and I are working on a series of murders."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You are a policeman, working in Homicide department. This is what you usually deal with, right?"

"Yeah."

"So why do you think this particular case is affecting you more than the others you previously dealt with?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me about the current case."

"Three young girls have been murdered. Their... their bodies..."

Hutch choked and closed his eyes. He couldn't go on. Because he was a cop and this was confidential. And besides, the images he kept in his head of the mutilated bodies were frightening him more than he had wanted to admit.

"Don't worry. We don't have to get to the bottom of this today nor into details. Do you mind if I ask this; did you know any of the victims personally?"

"No... Why do you ask?"

"Just trying to find a clue to what's causing you this … sensation."

"But the voice started to talk to me just _before_ we were assigned to this case."

"I see." the doctor said, writing a few words from time to time on the second sheet of paper, next to the first one where he had written Hutch's personal details. "Tell me more about this voice."

"I... I think... it's a woman's voice."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... Yes, I'm sure." Hutch finally uttered.

"Did she tell you anything else?"

"No. She is just calling me out and... Jeez, this is nuts? Please, tell me why it's happening? Am I going crazy?" Hutch said, with a new outfit of aggressiveness in his voice.

"Kenneth, I don't think you are crazy."

"But... it's like there is another person... inside me... could this be the sign that I'm..."

The doctor looked at him, understanding what his patient now seemed to lead at.

"...Schizophrenic?" the doctor said, finishing Hutch's sentence.

"Could it be?"

"There are several methods to determine that. I first would have to have you answer a series of specific questions. This will take more time than I can give you today. I suggest we plan another session... let's say... in two days." he said while checking his agenda.

Hutch sighed and seemed to think about something. He frowned at the psychiatrist.

"Sounds fine. I really need to... be myself again." Hutch finally uttered.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure this is all due to an elevated level of stress imposed on you by recent events and most probably by the fatigue you have accumulated."

"How can you sound so reassuring?" Hutch said.

"I see no reason not to be." Dr Braun replied, smiling in such a friendly way that Hutch found it a bit puzzling.

Hutch stood up and shook hands more firmly than he was used to in any other circumstances. Because he wanted to believe this first encounter was – needed to be – positive, reassuring, somehow.

"Thank you, Doctor. See you in two days, then."

"In the meantime, try to rest as much as you can."

When Hutch left the building, he felt slightly better, and the echo in his head was gone... for the moment.

When he reached his place, he took a double dose of sleeping pills, pushed the phone receiver off the hook, grabbed a quick shower and went straight to bed. It was only ten o'clock. He closed his eyes.

 _"I... mean... no... harm."_

What he heard inside his head before falling into a deep slumber was only a far away echo. He refused to pay attention and instead tried to focus on the mental image of his body lying on the beach, facing the ocean gentle waves, rolling to his feet. In a matter of minutes, he was snoring.

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(to be continued)


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hello everyone,**_  
 _ **Sorry for yesterday. RL kinda caught me in the loop.**_  
 _ **So to apologize, here are two chapters instead of one...**_  
 _ **Enjoy and... pls feel free to comment.**_  
 _ **Love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

The next morning, he felt better, more than better in fact. No voice. No stress. His dreams had taken him far away, in the middle of a tropical sea, swimming in clear blue waters.

When Starsky came to pick him up, he sounded more relaxed than he had been in days.

"Mornin' Partner! Ready for duty?" Starsky's voice was joyful and full of enthusiasm.

"Yep! Could we go for a coffee and donuts before going to work?"

"Wow, what's got into you, Blondie? Coffee, donuts! Are you planning quitting your regular powder vitamin diet?

"Yeah... for a change."

"Fine for me!" There was a big smile on Starsky's face. "Let's go." he said, happily snapping his fingers in rhythm.

When they reached Metro, Hutch saw that Starsky had lined up three files on his desk and he did not have to take a closer look to know they were the murdered girls. There was a note with Starsky's almost indecipherable hand-writing on top of the files.

Hutch took his jacket off and carefully put it on the back of his chair.

"You've been working on the case?" he nodded at the files.

"I tried to. This makes no sense. There is no connection whatsoever between the three girls, except they were approximately the same size, age and all three were brunettes."

"Have you checked their occupation?"

"Sure I did. What do you think?" Starsky exclaimed. He immediately regretted his reaction and went on in a gentle voice. "Marcie Brown worked in a pharmacy. Abby was a secretary for a transport company and Roxy..." he looked at the paper he had written "Roxy has been... had been unemployed for the last two months and before that she was a waitress in a restaurant downtown."

Hutch was staring at the paper his partner had filled in. He extended a hand.

"Could you give me that, please?"

"Sure." Starsky gave him his note. "Any idea?"

"Hmmm, no. What about where they live?"

"I draw a blank on that too. They were all renting apartment, but through different agencies and in different parts of town. No connection here either."

Starsky turned around, poured himself a large mug of coffee and added two lumps of sugar.

"Starsk..." Hutch was staring at his partner who was stirring in his coffee.

"What?" Starsky asked absentmindedly, looking at the floor.

"Hey partner, have you ever considered you might develop diabetes, eating all that sugar everyday?"

Starsky snapped out of his thoughts and looked amused.

"Look who's talking? You could use some more yourself, which would give you a good kick in the morning!"

"Thanks, but no thanks. That donut was an exception, and you know it."

"I still wonder what's got into you this morning. By the way, how was your night? Slept better?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Starsky took a large gulp of coffee, pulled a wry face and put the mug on the corner of his desk."

"What? Not enough sugar?" Hutch asked amusingly.

"Nah... not strong enough."

Hutch smiled and transferred his attention back to Starsky's note. He took a blank sheet of paper, turned it sideways and drew five columns.

"What are you doing?"

"Rewriting your note."

"I can see that. What's wrong with mine?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to line up the dates. Perhaps this will help us to find a common denominator."

"I told you already. I didn't find one." Starsky sighed. "But you're welcome to try again."

"Thanks, Buddy-" Hutch replied as he went on writing without looking up at his partner. "There must be one detail we overlooked. Let's see..." He looked at Starsky's note and started to write a title at the top of each column. "We've got name... age... size... job... address...what about their marital status?"

Starsky opened the files on his desk.

"All single." he said after a few seconds.

"All right. So let's recapitulate." Hutch started to fill in the column as he spoke."Marcie Brown... age 27... 5'7"... pharmacy...single...shit; I need one more column for the place where they live.

"What about the location where we found their body?"

"Yeah, you're right. I need to do this again." Hutch took another blank sheet and started to draw columns again.

"While you're at it, why don't you add the time they were murdered." Starsky suggested.

Hutch looked at him and smiled.

"Way to go, Sherlock!"

"See, sugar gives you energy."

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate here." Hutch started to count the elements he needed to fill in aloud. "Let's see, I need one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight columns. Right. Now, let's start with the first girl. Marcie Brown. Age..."

"27." Starsky went on, going through the first file on his own desk.

"Size... 5'7"... pharmacy".

"Single."

"Lives in an apartment by the ocean. Found in a park."

Starsky took the second file and opened it on top of the first one. He read the data aloud while Hutch was filling in the table.

"Second girl: Abby Spencer, age 28, 5'9", secretary working for Easy Carry, single, … lives in an apartment downtown. She was found in a park, next to the hospital."

"Okay. What about the third one?"

Starsky opened the third file and read through.

"Roxy Grant, age 28, 5'8", currently unemployed after she was working as a waitress in a restaurant. Huh..." he was searching for her girl's address. "She was living in an apartment downtown too. Her body was found in the same park as Marcie, but at a different place."

Hutch looked at the table he had just filled in.

"What about the time they were killed?"

Starsky searched in all the files for the coroner's indication of TOD.

"Seems they were all killed before midnight."

Hutch filled in the corresponding column. "It's not even full moon."

Starsky looked at his partner and refrained from mentioning his concern about a voodoo implication.

They both sighed at the same time.

"Seems this is getting us nowhere." Starsky lamented.

"There must be one little detail which connects them. Don't tell me the killer hits at random? They are all brunettes, about the same age and size, all single."

"Hey! Maybe they were not always single!"

"What do you mean?" Hutch frowned at his partner.

"Maybe they had a boyfriend and..."

"And maybe they had the same boyfriend and he decided to kill all his former lovers? Is that what you're thinking?"

"Not necessarily."

"Great. Because I would have thought you have the weirdest mind to elaborate such a scenario."

"What about the guy killing these girls? Don't you think he is weird?"

"Sure. But to imagine that all three of them shared the same boyfriend!"

"Why not? Okay, let's check whether they had a relationship anyway. We could maybe discover something interesting?" Starsky suggested again.

"Let's go hunting for info."

Hutch stood up, folded the paper and put it in shirt chest pocket. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door when he heard Starsky calling him.

"Hey, what's the rush? I haven't finished my coffee yet!"

"FORGET ABOUT YOUR COFFEE, THINK ABOUT YOUR DIABETES!" Hutch shouted as he was already disappearing around the corridor.

Starsky had no choice but to let his mug on the coffee table and rushed to catch up with his partner.

They spent all the afternoon visiting and questioning the three girls' relatives or friends. They found that each had had a boyfriend. Starsky was somehow disappointed to hear that it was not the same guy. There was no common point either to the duration of each romance, as Marcie had been dating his for a couple of months, Abby for almost one year and Roxy for six weeks. Hutch filled in his table carefully. Starsky was a bit moody when they drove back to the headquarters.

"Don't look so depressed." Hutch said while he was reading his notes again.

"I'm not depressed. But I have a bad feeling about this."

"What do you mean?"

"Like it's not over."

"No. It's not over. We still to catch this maniac."

"No, I mean, it's not over, I have the feeling he is going to kill again."

"Unless we catch him first."

"See, that's the problem. We have no clue on the why and who?"

Hutch put a hand on his partner shoulder. Somehow, he knew Starsky was thinking the same thing. Two years before, they had been investigating on a murder case involving three girls. They were all show girls and they had managed to nail the killer before he reached his fourth victim. This time they didn't have the faintest hint to guide them and put an end to this horrible series.

"Don't worry, man, we'll get him." Hutch was surprised to sound more reassuring then he felt possible.

The day ended without bringing any new elements and Hutch surely appreciated the night truce now. It meant no more stress would bear on him and maybe he could get a good night sleep at last.

Once again, he declined his friend's plan for the evening. Starsky had dropped him at Venice Place without insisting too much, which Hutch had appreciated.

"Don't you want to share a pizza or something?" The brunette asked, trying to slip in anyway.

"Nah... thanks... I really appreciate it, pal, but I think tonight I'll try to hit the sheets soon."

"OK, hey... take care." his friend said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, you know where to find me, right?"

"Right. Don't worry. I'm feeling better. Thanks Buddy."

"Any time.'Night, Blondie."

"Night, Starsk."

After Starsky was gone, Hutch adopted the same ritual as the night before: pills, phone off the hook, shower, bed.

Dreams.

No voice.

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(to be continued)


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, he felt like a new man. Perhaps the first session with the psychiatrist had made him feel more conscious that there was actually nothing wrong with him and his current discomfort was indeed due to a higher level of stress.

At the end of a relatively routine day and still no hint on the brunettes' killer, Starsky drove him back home and didn't insist on inviting him to spend the evening together. Hutch had told him he had another appointment with the doctor at 6:30 pm. He had just enough time to take a quick shower, get dressed and drive to the clinic.

When he arrived for his second appointment, he was breathing heavily, because the traffic had been denser than he expected and he was almost ten minutes late. Dr Braun led him into his office and offered a reassuring smile.

"Good evening, Dr Braun. I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic jams." He said almost out of breath, as he had been running in the corridors.

"Just relax, Kenneth, you're the last person I'll see today. Make yourself comfortable. You could use a glass of water."

And so saying, he filled in a glass from a bottle on his desk and handed it to Hutch who enjoyed it all in just a few long gulps.

"Thank you." Hutch put the glass back on the desk.

"Okay, Kenneth. Shall we start? I prepared the questionnaire I told you about. The questions are fairly simple and they will help us to get a more precise idea of your current state of mind. Just relax. Would you prefer to lie on the couch?"

"Er...no. The chair is just fine, thank you."

"As you wish." The doctor paused for a moment. "Are you ready?"

"I guess so." Hutch took a couple of deep breaths. _Here you go, Kenny boy. Moment of truth._

The doctor took a two-page question chart with empty columns on the right for answer from a file and a pen and started to ask the questions.

"Just give the first answer that comes into your mind after each question. There aren't many. OK, first, do you feel that others are in control of what you think and feel?"

Hutch closed his eyes and remembered the echo of the voice that had been talking to him lately. Though it had been persistent, he did not have the feeling it was controlling him in any way.

"No." he replied. _Starts good_ , he thought.

"The next question is a bit tricky, considering what you've told me. Do you hear or see things that nobody else can hear or see?"

"I'd have to reply 'yes', but to the first part only. I only _hear_ a voice; I do not see anything special!" Hutch said roughly. The doctor felt the detective was feeling uneasy as he saw him fidgeting on his chair.

"Don't worry. So far, so good." he replied in a gentle voice, trying to make him feel more relaxed. "Do you sometimes find it difficult to express yourself in a way others can easily understand?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does it happen that, when you say something, the others don't know what you mean?"

"Er... no."

"Good. Next one. Do you have the feeling you share little or nothing in common with your friends or your family?"

"On the contrary, I... I do share a lot with them!" Hutch replied angrily. He didn't feel it necessary to mention the lack of relations with his parents since he decided to become a cop. After all, his real family was here, in Bay City, Starsky, Huggy, the Dobeys. His life was here. Period!

"Don't worry; it's just one question among many. Next question, do you believe in something about the real world around you that no other seems to believe in?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know... you tell me."

"Like miracles? We sure could use some from time to time. I mean, in my line of work, I sometimes feel that we could use a hand from the Big Man up there."

"That's not what I meant. But I get your point." Dr Braun smiled and waited, as he sensed his patient still wanted to talk.

Hutch went on; feeling more relaxed and even a bit determined to go through the whole questionnaire.

"It's just that everyday, we see so many wackos and dramas and... I think it's unfair to the victims and I wish there were something we could do... more often... but..." Hutch felt he could not put the right words on his feelings.

"I understand, detective." The doctor said, calling him by his function title this time, in an attempt to make him feel he had a purpose.

"Does it occur that you don't trust what you think because you don't know whether it's real or not?"

"Like believing in God? You know, I haven't prayed in a long time but... there's gotta be... I mean...I don't know for sure He is there after all, but I'm not the only one to believe this, right?"

"Let me reassure you, I feel the same." The doctor sounded compassionate, which Hutch found nice but a bit unusual, as he thought a psychiatrist shouldn't let himself get involved in his patients reactions.

"The next question might seem a bit weird. I want you to answer it simply: do you have magical powers no one else has or can explain?"

"No! I wish I had, though."

Hutch was smiling at the idea of having the power to be a better and a more efficient cop, to get there on time to prevent crime from being perpetrated, to save people before they got hurt.

"Are others plotting against you?"

"What?" the detective raised his eyebrows in total surprise at the question.

"Do you feel others might prepare something bad that could hurt you?"

"Do you mean, if I feel paranoid?"

"Yes."

"Not at all."

"OK. Do you have a hard time getting hold of your thoughts sometimes?"

"I guess so, when I'm tired, or angry... which has been happening more regularly for the last few days. I can show a very bad temper then. My partner always says I should be more detached about certain things."

"Like what? Could you give me an example?" Hutch's lips stretched in a discreet smile.

"I remember when my car broke down a few years ago. I had been trying for hours to talk to the insurance company and have them do their job properly, but the person I was talking to on the phone never managed to find my file, I was not registered in their computer, and I was so furious, because most of the time, I felt like we were just numbers and I got mad...and this turned out to be total nonsense compared to what we experienced later on. Murders, more and more. All around us. But on that day, it was like the last straw, I lost my temper over some stupid detail, I realize that now."

Each time Hutch answered a question, the doctor wrote down a few words. It went on and on until they almost reached the end of the list of questions.

"We're almost done, Kenneth. Do you have the sensation of being treated unfairly because others are jealous of special abilities you have?"

Hutch giggled.

"I'll say it's just the opposite. I wish I were better, I wish I had others abilities, to cope with what's happening, not to loose my temper, to trust myself a bit more."

The doctor remained silent for a few seconds and went on.

"Now the last question and we're done. Do you talk to another person in your head that no one can hear?"

Hutch froze, breathing heavily, trying to swallow hard before he answered.

"Yes." He whispered. His voice was so low that the doctor hardly heard him.

"Hm hm." The psychiatrist mumbled, writing one word on his paper.

"Does this mean I'm going wacko?" Hutch finally asked, sounding a bit nervous again.

The doctor took his time to think about what he was going to say.

"Mr. Hutchinson, considering what you've just answered to all the questions, I don't think you're going _wacko_ , as you say. Can I tell you something? I shouldn't tell you this but you sound like you can take it for what it is. I also hear a voice in my head from time to time. Have you ever considered this might be your conscience, your inner voice?"

"But..." Hutch found it difficult to say the words. "It's a female voice!"

"And?" Dr Braun didn't seem the least surprised by the revelation.

"Wouldn't my conscience choose a male voice to talk to me? I mean..."

"Why? The bottom line is you sound like a pretty balanced human being to me, with all the doubts and frustrations linked to your line of job. Every day you face difficult choices and critical situations, you are confronted by murders and atrocities. It seems perfectly normal that you feel the way you feel. I just think you have been overexerting yourself lately."

"I'm not sure I understand, Doctor?"

"I'm simply stating that you are not crazy. Your reasoning sounds logical and sane."

Hutch took time to digest what he has just heard. Finally, he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

"So why is that voice asking me to answer? It does not actually _talk_ to me, trying to reassure me or guide me in one direction or another, as my conscience would do."

"So? Why don't you try to let it be and stop resisting?"

Hutch was staring at nothing in particular in front of him, feeling a bit perplexed. How could a shrink recommend him to accept what was happening to him and which he found so weird?

 _Okay, I'm not going nuts, according to the good doctor. But why the hell do I still have the feeling I'm losing it?_

"How do I do that?" Hutch asked in a low whisper.

The doctor closed the file on his desk, put both hands flat on them and looked at Hutch in the eyes.

"Let me ask you one more question. Have you experienced something extremely difficult, violent or even traumatic during the last few months or years, something you had a hard time to talk about? An accident? A loved one you lost?"

Hutch raised his eyes and frowned.

"Huh... yeah... I..."

The memory of what Monk and his friends had done to him surged in his memory.

"A few of these, in fact... a lot actually! I guess what hit me most and still haunts me from time to time happened seven years ago, I... I was abducted and forcefully injected with heroin." He painfully confessed.

"Go on." The psychiatrist felt his patient was trying at last to completely let go of the dramatic aftershock he had held hidden in his heart for too long.

"I somehow managed to escape my kidnappers and my partner rescued me just in time. I was lying in the street, totally stoned and...er... well, he took care of me, stayed with me until I was out of it, until he was sure I was safe from the wish to jump on it again. And..."

Hutch stopped explaining what had happened, it became so sharp in his memory again, as if it had happened only recently.

"What are your feelings right now, when you think about what occurred back then?" the doctor asked calmly.

"I feel... afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of being weak again."

"Weak? Why do you say that?"

"Because... see... sometimes I feel my work is useless. I see bad things happening all around, day after day, and my partner and I manage to put only a few bad guys behind bars."

"Do you think you're not doing enough?"

"No... it's not that. It's..."

Hutch sighed very deeply, trying to cope with the idea that indeed he was no super hero after all, and that Starsky and he were doing their best every day.

"I'm so tired sometimes and I'm afraid to let go."

"I can understand that. Mr. Hutchinson, according to what I've heard, I'd say you seem like a sane person to me. You know the risks and you deal with them in the way any other normal human being would. Trust me on this. The excess of stress and accumulated fatigue has finally put a heavy weight on your shoulders and your ability to think calmly and straight about particular events needs to get strong again."

Hutch smiled faintly.

"Yeah... you're probably right. The last few months have really been hard on us."

"Take it easy. You're not nuts, most like a bit depressed, that much is almost certain. Do you want me to prescribe something to help you go through all this for the coming weeks? If this can make you feel more comfortable, there is absolutely no risk of addiction. But I'd advise you to take the treatment for at least two or three months, then gradually decrease the dosage. The first effects are rapidly noticeable and in a while, you'll feel better and be able to sleep better too. This should help you regain your confidence and cope with the stress you're experiencing. It will only help leveling out your mood swings."

Hutch sat up on his chair, with the sensation that this could mean the end of this nightmare. Less stress. Less fatigue. No less murders, but at least he would learn to cope better. With all this behind him, he would be himself again. _Myself? Who am I anyway? Just another guy on the block. The doctor's right. I'm not Superman. So take it easy Hutch, get a grip and take the damn pills!_

When he left the building, Hutch looked at the starry sky, took a very deep and long breath and headed for his car.

Home. Shower. Bed.

He closed his eyes.

 _"Why don't you answer me?"_

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(to be continued)


	8. Chapter 8

**_Wednesday, here I come!_  
 _I hope you all had a nice and lovely beginning of week. Here winter is fighting a battle with Spring. Sunshine follows snow and storm... Weird season!_  
 _I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter._  
 _And a big thanks to all of you who visit and review. I'd love to read more about your feedback on this._  
 _Love,_  
 _Lyxie_  
**

* * *

Starsky was surprised to see Hutch up and ready for the new day. He had driven to Venice Place much earlier than usual; he worried about his partner's well being more than he showed. He was also frustrated he hadn't been able to reach his heart he night before. Besides, Hutch's phone had been busy all evening and Starsky suspected his friend had took the receiver off the hook to try and get some more sleep. Any other time, he would have jumped into his Torino and rushed to Hutch's place to check on him. He didn't think his partner would have done anything foolish and just felt he needed time for himself. Nevertheless, his heart ached when faced with his friend's sudden desire to be left alone.

"Hi there! Hungry?" Starsky called cheerfully, brandishing a brown bag full of sweet-smelling donuts and two large cups of coffee with cream."

"Hi Starsk. C'mon in. Jeez, look at the time; I never imagined you could be such an early bird!"

Starsky managed to carefully hide his worries and frustrations.

"I'm starving and I hate eating breakfast alone. Do you mind?" He set all the goodies on the kitchen counter and handled one donut to his friend. "Here, take this, it'll do you good. You look like you haven't eaten anything much in days."

"Thanks." Hutch grabbed a donut and took one hungry bite.

"That's it, partner, enjoy!"

"Hmm..." Hutch mumbled, his mouth full. "Dee-li-chious!"

After they had both eaten Starsky's offerings in silence, Hutch seemed to relax and Starsky secretly rejoiced deep in his heart. He felt like Hutch was willing to say something, but was still holding up somehow.

"Wanna fight for the last one?" Starsky asked, extending the plate with only one donut left.

"Nah, I'm full. I ate two already. Don't push it!... Thanks, Buddy."

"I never imagined you would go for this greasy sweet and one-thousand calorie stuff, ya know?"

"People change." Hutch said with an amused smile.

 _Yeah, Hutch -_ Starsky thought - _that's it, come back to me, be your usual self, Buddy!_

"Starsk..." Hutch started, still hesitant on what he was going to say to his friend and most of all, how he was going to say it.

Starsky was standing with his back against the sink and making a big effort to drink his coffee in silence.

"I wasn't myself lately, right?" Hutch made it sound like an apology.

"That's the least you can say, partner."

"I went to see a doctor..."

"Yeah, I know that already."

"No, I mean... a... shrink."

"Huh? What for?"

Hutch hesitated to go on yet, seeing Starsky looking at him almost tenderly, he felt compelled to tell everything to his best friend.

"I thought I was going nuts."

"No, you're not. I don't know, actually. _You mean more than usual?_ " Starsky smiled a big mocking smile and he raised his eyebrows a couple of times.

"Starsk!" Hutch shouted.

"Sorry. Go on."

"He asked me a long list of questions and we discussed and..."

"And the verdict is: you're fine. Right?" Starsky claimed with a nuance of triumph in his voice.

"Yeah." Hutch sighed, relieved that his friend wasn't even surprised by what he'd just heard. "Dr Braun said I'm probably exhausted and I've endured too much without allowing my body and my mind to rest."

Hutch was about to say something more, but he kept silent and looked at his friend in such a pitiful way that Starsky felt the need to remain silent too. He was sure now that Hutch would surely get rid of whatever was bothering him only when he felt ready. Which seemed sooner than expected.

"There is something I haven't told you yet." Hutch whispered.

Starsky waited for more, patiently, which was unusual for him. He normally hardly managed to keep his mouth shut for very long and now that he was expecting something more bizarre from his friend, his impatience was even greater.

"Starsk... I... I've been hearing voices for a while."

"Voices? What kind of voices?"

"Well, actually, just one voice."

"And?"

Starsky first tried not to laugh, thinking Hutch might be victim of a Joan of Arc syndrome. But Hutch seemed so serious that he decided to wait for the rest of the confession.

"She's talking to me at night. I... I don't wanna answer, but she keeps calling me."

"She? It's a _SHE_?"

"Yeah. But... Okay, I'll be straight about this. I went to the doctor. He thought I was totally exhausted and maybe this was due to tinnitus. The tests proved it's not. The pills he first gave me aren't helping me to get a decent night's sleep. Then I went to talk to a shrink. I even got through a complete test to determine whether I was going nuts or schizo. But he says I'm okay."

"Aah?" Starsky grinned.

"Contain your disappointment, please."

"Sorry. I'm just happy to hear it." Starsky apologized.

"The point is there is no explanation to this. I'm... this voice is calling me again and again!"

"Huh huh..."

Starsky was now serious. He looked at his partner and saw his partner's face, preoccupied, frowning, but not in distress.

"Starsk... you're my friend. What do you think? Tell me frankly, Buddy, do you think I'm going nuts?"

Starsky swallowed the last bite of his donut and licked his lips several times.

"Nah, I don't think you're nuts. Not more than usual."

"Starsk!"

"Just kidding. Okay, did you recognize this voice?"

Hutch didn't expect his partner's reaction.

"Do... do you believe me then?"

" 'Course I do! So, tell me, does that voice sound familiar?"

"No."

"What does she say?"

"She just calls me and asks me to answer."

"So, why don't you answer and ask her what she wants?"

Hutch started to relax a little now that he had spoken the truth.

"Starsk, I never thought you'd go for this! Now... I don't... I mean... Should I really take this seriously?"

Hutch hadn't expected that kind of reaction from Starsky, but then again, his partner had shown some weird attitudes a number of times before.

"Absolutely!" Starsky replied calmly. Then he seemed to have an idea. "Hey, what if she is an ancestor? You know, someone from your family who died and she had a message to deliver and she found you because you seemed receptive and so on."

"Starsky, that is... the most peculiar explanation I've heard so far..." Hutch retorted. "But... well... now you mention it... could be. Why not?"

"See? Why don't you answer the damn call and try to find who she is?"

"What if she is a bad spirit?"

"How long have you been hearing this voice?" asked Starsky, now genuinely concerned and attentive.

"I'd say for about three weeks."

"Okay, if she were bad, she'd have harmed you already, right?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"So, TALK to her! It may be the only way to calm her and make her disappear, who knows?"

Hutch took a very deep breath and gave his friend a weak smile.

"Maybe you're right."

Starsky was now more curious about all this.

"When do you hear her?"

"Usually in the evening... late in the evening."

"Okay. And where are you when she starts talking to you?"

Hutch looked at Starsky incredulously.

"You really believe me, don't you?"

"Yes. How many times do I have to tell ya, huh?"

"And you don't think I'm nuts?"

"Blondie, we are all nuts, one way or another, with our line of work, and the stress and everything. But your case seems... interesting. Now answer me, where are you when she starts talking to you?"

Hutch thought about the last times he had heard the voice.

"In my bed, when I'm trying to get some sleep."

"Never at another time during the day?"

"Er...I don't think so."

"Okay. Now, here is what we're gonna do. I'll sleep over at your place tonight... just to keep an eye on ya, and you answer the lady tonight, how does that sound?"

"Starsk..."

Hutch couldn't express how relieved he was to hear his friend was buying his story and was even ready to help him.

"You know what?" Starsky said, glancing at his watch. "Time to go to work. Let's go."

He rinsed his cup in the sink and headed to the door. As Hutch wasn't moving an inch, he called again:

"Hey, Blondie, snap out of it! C'mon!"

Hutch put his cup in the sink too and followed a cheerful and almost skipping partner.

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(to be continued)


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hi Everyone,**_  
 _ **It's Wednesday! Here is a longer chapter this time.  
All my gratitude to all of you who visit and/or review this story. Things may seem a bit slow, but a lot more is coming. One step... dream... illusion... whatever, at a time... You'll see. Hope you're still hooked. Eager to read your feedback on the story construction too, not only on the heroes.**_  
 _ **Love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

They had their share of routine calls that day. Violence, thefts, brutal fights between men in a bar. Nothing out of the ordinary. At the end of the day, as he had promised in the morning, Starsky drove Hutch to his place, parked the Torino for the night and followed his friend upstairs.

They ordered in pizzas and drank a couple of beers. When they had both taken a shower, Starsky prepared the couch on which he intended to sleep, refusing Hutch's offer to let him use his bed.

"Just one thing, Hutch. When... she starts talking to you, are you asleep already or just about to fall asleep?"

"Er...Don't know exactly... Depends."

After a brief but intense moment of reflection, Hutch seemed to have put his finger on a particular detail.

"I think each time I close my eyes, she starts talking." he said.

"Okay, now we'll have to wait till you are about to fall asleep and you close your eyes."

"I don't wanna go through this!" Hutch said, obviously very nervy.

"It's gonna be fine. I'm here. Nothing bad can happen. I'll be watching, OK?" Starsky replied, trying to sound as comforting as he could be.

This seemed to help Hutch relax as he headed for his bedroom, which was actually visible from the living room, where Starsky would spend the night.

"Try and get some sleep, Blondie."

"Yeah... Starsk?"

"Yep."

"Thanks... for being here."

"Don't even mention it."

Starsky slid into the sleeping bag Hutch had given him and waited until he heard his partner snoring before allowing himself to sleep in turn.

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 _"Please, answer me."_

Hutch woke up with a start at the precise moment he heard the voice. But he didn't talk or scream, like he had done the nights before.

This time, he stayed in his bed, sat up and breathed long breaths, mentally reciting the litany he often used when meditating.

 _Why do you keep talking to me? Go away!_

 _Please, talk to me. It's important._

Hutch went on with his mantra, repeating to himself over and over _I'm not hearing this, I'm not hearing this, she'll go away and disappear..._

 _But I'm here, listen to me._

 _This is just my imagination, I will not talk to that voice, because that voice does not exist, it's just an illusion, I will listen to the sound of my heartbeat, I will not listen to that voice, it is not there, it does not exist._

 _But I do exist!_

 _No, you don't. And I will eventually obliterate you from my head, from my mind. You do not exist, this is just an illusion. I'm tired, my body is exhausted and so is my mind. When I fall asleep again, your voice will disappear._

 _I am real._

 _No, you're not._

 _If not, why do you say "you" when you are talking to me?_

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Another day passes...

Another night. Alone. Another nightmare.

Hutch wasn't ready to give in that nonsense of believing in some spirit of a dead ancestor trying to talk to him. The day before, he had been listening to Starsky's attempt to find an explanation, but now that he had slept on it, it didn't make any sense anymore. He was fond of meditation and yoga exercises, but this... No. Definitely no.

It had to be something else. When he had heard Starsky waking up, he had decided to hide the fact he'd heard the voice again. He wanted to get through this by himself. When Starsky hit the shower, Hutch called his shrink to get another appointment. Then what? He felt he wouldn't be able to go on like this very long; it was having a negative impact on his concentration. And not being able to react fast and good in a crisis situation might endanger both his life and Starsky's. His partner was right on that.

Once before, he had almost lost it, when he and Gillian were having an affair. His partner and he were running after bad guys, he had frozen in a panic, shaking all over, unable to move an inch, unable to cover his partner, unable to be the professional cop he had been until then. Starsky had never mentioned that day again, but it was a terrible moment that Hutch had never forgotten. Somehow, the idea was still haunting him that, one day, he could fail to be there at the right moment and do the right thing.

Today, he was wondering what the right thing to do was. Go on and ignore the fact that he was hearing a voice that no one else could hear? Answer it? Taking more and more medication which wasn't helping anyhow?

At the end of the day, Hutch felt completely exhausted. Partly because, apart from the regular duties, his partner and he had gone through all the three murdered girls data one more time, partly because he hadn't yet been able to sleep properly.

When he arrived at the shrink's, he almost let himself fall on the couch he had refused to sit on the first time.

This time, there was no questionnaire. There was no need for it anymore. But he didn't know where to begin, what to say first.

"How was your day today?" the therapist asked, sitting in a chair next to the couch, so that Hutch could see the face of the person he was praying could help him.

"Not too good."

"How so?"

"We... we haven't found any clue on..."

Hutch stopped talking, realizing he wasn't supposed to disclose any information outside the framework of the official investigation. He had come here on his own initiative and this doctor wasn't mandated by Metro.

"... On the case we're on for the moment." he finished.

"The girls who were murdered. You know, everything that's said in this office won't be disclosed in any way. I'm bound by professional secrecy. Now, tell me, have you heard that voice again?"

Hutch closed his eyes, breathed long and slow breaths a couple of times.

"Yes. Last night. She was more persistent this time. She was arguing with everything I said, like we started a real dialogue."

"Huh... interesting... is it the first time you speak to each other?"

"But I didn't speak to her! I was merely talking to myself and she seemed to answer my thoughts."

Hutch's voice was a bit more angry now.

"Don't get upset... Try to relax."

There was a moment of silence which the doctor didn't want to interrupt, he let his patient lead the session wherever he felt comfortable.

"I... I feel so... out of control." Hutch finally whispered.

"What would you like to control?"

"The case... I'd like to find some damn clue on what's happening."

"Is that all?"

"Of course, what I'd like right now is to understand why there a voice in my head and I don't know who the hell she is!"

"How did you feel when she spoke to you last night?"

"Angry... Upset."

"Did she say something that triggered this anger?"

Hutch frowned.

"I... I thought I was just talking to myself, but I realized I was talking to her, using _'you'_ as if she existed."

"Do you think she doesn't exist?"

"I... I don't know."

Hutch closed his eyes. The doctor waited a little while before he spoke again.

"Mr. Hutchinson, may I ask whether you have ever been hypnotized?"

"What? Why do you ask?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"No, not to my knowledge, I would remember. What does it have to do with it all?"

"There could have been a connection between a conditioning you weren't aware of and the voice. But let's forget this option."

Hutch felt a bit more relaxed now. Was it simply because the couch was really comfortable? His eyes were still closed, he almost felt like he was about to fall asleep.

During the rest of the session, part of all the anger, the pain, the frustration he held inside for so long came out in a flood of words.

When he reached his apartment later, he barely managed it to the shower and almost fell asleep under the warm water running down his back.

"Okay, I'm fine. Tired. Frustrated. Angry. But fine. This is just because of the case."

 _I called you before the case._

 _Oh shit, no. Please. No more. Why are you doing this to me?_

 _I need you._

 _I don't wanna help._

 _You have to._

 _No._

He forced himself to shut his mind and protect it against any more intrusion. More mantra. Reciting slowly. This time, it seemed to work, the voice shut up.

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"Hey Blondie!"

Hutch's mind was still emerging from an unusual slumber. For the first time in a long time, he had slept over. Starsky had been knocking for at least two minutes before his partner reacted and painfully dragged himself to open the door.

"What's the matter? No jogging this morning?"

"Hey why did you wait outside?"

"Er... don't know."

"No jogging this morning. I didn't hear the clock."

"Great!" Starsky replied, in a happy mood. "That means you had a good night sleep, am I right?"

"Yeah" said Hutch in a big sigh.

"Good. Because Dobey called this morning and he sounded furious."

"Why?"

"Because... there has been another..."

"Another girl? Oh man... same scenario?"

"Yeah. Same scar, same note. Dobey wants us at Metro immediately. Special briefing with Abbott and Costello."

"The guys from the _Bureau_?"

"I know. This doesn't please me any more than you. But I think we're gonna have to cooperate. This case is going to need more than Metro's best shot detectives this time, I'm afraid." said Starsky with an air of amused irony.

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There had never been much appreciation nor love lost between the Metro detectives and the Feds. The latter always had a tendency to consider Dobey's men as clowns. The fact that Hutch and Starsky had solved more intricate cases than they had turn didn't make a difference in the Feds eyes. Moreover, Dobey had always made it clear to the Feds that they should feel more indebted to his men for their valuable help, but Callaghan and Engels remained in their ivory tower, seeing the detectives as occupying subsidiary roles in the big police family.

When they entered the squad room, the door to Dobey's office was wide open and before Hutch had the time to check his mailbox and Starsky had the chance to reach for the coffee jar, they heard Dobey's strong voice shouting.

"STARSKY! HUTHCINSON! IN MY OFFICE, NOW!"

No time for coffee, no checking on files. That tone of voice gave no chance of delay. They knew!

When they entered Dobey's office, they saw Callaghan and Engels standing next to his desk. Both of them were dressed in their usual strict fashion and standing as rigid as concrete posts. Their faces were blank like a badly drawn comic book.

"You've known each other for a while now," Dobey started, addressing his _boys_. But, his voice was a lot more aggressive than usual. "We now have four murders on our hands and no clue whatsoever on the killer nor the motive. So we have now to cooperate with the _Bureau_."

Starsky was about to react and Dobey stopped him before he could speak. He opened a file in front of him.

"This is... this was Irene Darnovski, 29, brunette. Killed the same way as the others."

He paused briefly, staring at the girl's picture and let out a profound sigh and addressed his men.

"You know where I stand. But this is coming from higher and we have no choice this time. You WILL cooperate with Callaghan and Engels. Is that clear? I want this case dealt with as a priority. And I mean, TOP PRIORITY. I don't want the media to generate a wave of panic and the police department being pointed out as non efficient again, in any way. Is there any part of this you didn't understand?"

"No, Captain." Both detectives replied at the same time.

"Anything else, Captain?" Starsky asked, clearly avoiding looking at the Bureau's men.

"No. Now, get out of my office, ALL OF YOU!" Dobey shouted to all, but clearly looking at the Federal Agency representatives, whom he didn't appreciate that much either. His hierarchical position didn't allow him to be as fresh with them as he frequently let Starsky be.

Once they had left Dobey's office, Engels turned to the detectives.

"What do you think about trying to cooperate efficiently, this time?"

"Efficiently?" Starsky replied, feeling both offended and furious. "Are you insinuating we ain't good enough for you, guys?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then try to choose your words more carefully next time." Hutch intervened, in a calm voice, trying to keep the relations between them at a cooperative if not friendly level.

Starsky was clenching his fists. _All I want is to punch that stupid smile away from his face!_ He thought.

Hutch saw his partner's reaction and extended a hand on his shoulder.

"Starsk, we are part of a big investigation family and we're gonna solve this together and Dobey is gonna be happy. Right, _partner_?" He said with a big smile.

Starsky relaxed under his friend's grasp on his shoulder.

"Right." Starsky said. Then looking at the Feds "Where do you wanna start?"

"From the beginning, I guess." said Callaghan, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

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By midday, they had reviewed all elements which were gathered by the three different teams that had discovered the bodies, the coroner's report, the Polaroids, the notes that were found next to the bodies.

The four men had managed to keep a relative level of _entente cordiale_ during their meeting. But in the end, they were left with no more clues on the case. It seemed as if the girls had been abducted by a mysterious and invisible force, with no witness to report even a tiny detail. There was no evidence of a prior strange encounter they might have made. None of them had been showing a weird behavior. On the contrary, they were all bright young girls, seemingly happy, all of them active in different careers to the satisfaction of their respective employers.

They agreed to stay in touch and meet again the next day.

Both Metro detectives decided to go through the files one more time, scrutinizing the four girls' background line by line.

By the end of the day, they were both rubbing their eyes, fatigued, desperate and anxious about their boss's reaction if they did now come up with a good idea within the next few hours.

Hutch squeezed his eyes shut very hard, trying to avoid the sensation of burning after staring at the files for hours.

 _I need help._

 _Oh no! Not here! Not now!_

 _Please._

Hutch opened his eyes and glanced around him. Starsky was slowly sipping his tenth cup of coffee. Other colleagues were clearing their desks before going back home to their loved ones. Everybody was quiet. Hutch concentrated on the file in front of him and tried to make abstraction of what he had just heard.

The voice didn't talk again.

 _Good!_

Then suddenly, the most incredible idea popped in his head.

 _If the voice starts to talk to me here and now, while I'm still at the headquarters, could it mean that... she is one of the girls? Could she be? Maybe she's trying to warn me, about what is about to happen. Gee, Hutch, get a grip, this sounds definitely too weird. But what if... Okay, what did she tell me before? That she is real, that she meant no harm, she needs help, she wants me to talk to her. Could she be one of the victims? Does she have some psychic ability? Did she wanna warn me before she got killed? Gee, this would be too ... Oh God, listen to me, talking to myself now._

"You're all right, Buddy?" Starsky's voice suddenly dragged Hutch back to reality.

"Yeah. Hey, what do you think we call it a day? I'm worn out."

"Yeah... me too. Pizza tonight?"

Hutch was about to agree, feeling that he needed a distraction, but then he focused again on what he was thinking about when Starsky had interrupted him.

"What about tomorrow? I'd like... to catch up... on my sleep, while I can." He replied.

"Suits me." Starsky said, obviously not intending to insist.

They both prepared to leave. Starsky drove his partner back home and when they reach Venice Place, he turned off the ignition and turned to his partner.

"You look better than yesterday. Are you sure about the pizza?"

"Yes. Thanks, Starsk. I... I feel a bit better. Must be the treatment... finally doing me good. I'll call you in the morning."

"What for? Tomorrow is Saturday."

"You heard Dobey. I guess we won't have the luxury of Saturdays and Sundays until we solve this case. Shall I pick you up this time?"

"Nah..." Starsky quickly said. "I prefer to come over. And I'll bring breakfast. What do you say?"

"Again? Twice in the same week? What's got into you?"

"Nothing. Consider this as my share in the collective effort to make you feel better, partner."

Hutch looked at his friend and thought that he had been granted the most precious one anyone could find.

"Thanks;" he said. "See you tomorrow then."

"See you."

Hutch stepped out of the Torino and headed for his apartment.

When Starsky made sure his friend was home safe, he turned the ignition again, listened to the purring engine and stepped on the gas towards his own place.

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After a long shower and a quick concoction he usually drank for breakfast, Hutch went straight to his bedroom. But instead of lying down and trying to sleep, he sat up on his bed, in the lotus position, closed his eyes and started to breath slowly, heavily, reciting his usual relaxation mantra.

 _Okay, here I am. I'm listening._

No answer.

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(to be continued)


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm listening._

No answer.

He went on reciting slowy, breathing deeply, relaxing, tentatively.

 _I'm sorry._

There she was… Okay, let's do this _._

 _What are you sorry for?_

 _For scaring you._

 _You didn't scare me._

 _But you thought you were going crazy?_

 _Yes... But not anymore._

 _Why not?_

 _I don't know._

 _I mean no harm._

 _You said that already._

 _I need you._

 _Who are you?_

 _I'm...I need your help._

 _Who are you?_

 _I'm a girl._

 _I figured that already, thanks._

 _I know you, Hutch._

 _Oh yeah? Are you one of the dead girls?_

 _No._

 _A dead member of my family then?_

 _No._

 _How do you know me then?_

 _I know you... very well..._

 _Explain._

 _I'm a part of you...in a way..._

 _Part of me? I don't understand._

 _I can't' tell you... not now..._

 _When?_

 _Soon..._

Hutch tried to remain connected, but she was gone, leaving him in a perplexed state of mind. He just realized that he had talked to the voice much longer than before. He actually had a full dialogue with her! He suddenly became aware that he had finally accepted that voice in his head. The female voice. She knew him. She was part of him. Yet, he had no clue as to how to put everything together. But right now, he didn't care as he felt more relaxed than he had ever been in a long time.

He closed his eyes, knowing that the voice wouldn't speak to him again tonight. Within a few minutes, he was peacefully snoring.

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When he woke up, Hutch felt like something weird had occurred during the night... or was it in the evening?

When he headed for the bathroom, he first started to relieve himself, then washed his hands and stared at his face in the mirror.

 _Hutch, why were you talking to a girl... a woman? This can't be. You've been hearing that voice in your head for a little while now. Why do you think it happened all of a sudden? If you're not becoming schizo and she isn't one of your ancestors, who do you think she was?_

He closed his eyes, suddenly panicked by the idea that had just popped in his head.

 _What if I'm becoming... oh no... I don't think so. I don't wanna go there! I would've known for long. It's just not conceivable. Forget it, Hutch. You've always been normal. But what is "normal" anyway? Have I had this in me for years and I didn't know, or it wasn't ready to come out? How comes it doesn't sound right when I try to imagine this could be the explanation? No! No way! I'm not... gay!_

 _Still, I've been talking to a female voice inside my head. What if, in a man's life, something triggers the impulse to let the other half of the soul express itself? I've heard that we are all a combination of male and female profile. In most cases, the male is dominant in a male body and so on... What if, for whatever reason, my female part decided to show up and take advantage? Oh boy! Should I go back to Doctor Braun and explain this to him?_

 _I feel like... I don't even know how I feel anymore. I have to meet with Starsky in about an hour. What if I called and said I'm sick? I don't wanna face him. What if this is really it? And I start being... attracted to him?_

 _Forget it, Hutch! You've been working with him for so long that the bond between you is special, that much is certain. But would it sound absurd to say that you might have developed some romantic feeling for him… like lovers do? Of course, some people at Metro have been talking about the two of you for quite a while. About the way you care for each other. And the way you act with each other._

 _But this doesn't necessarily imply that you love the man. Okay, you love him, but not like that. Oh shit! Where am I going? Please, don't say this could be true._

 _And if it is, what am I gonna tell Starsky?_

Suddenly, an even stranger idea popped into his head _._

 _What if he feels the same way and he never said anything? What if something in his attitude triggered all this in me in the first place?_

 _Huuuutch, stooooooooop!_

He squeezed his eyes so hard as to prevent more delirium from making him scream.

He rushed to the shower cabin and set the water temperature at the coldest and remained there, freezing, shivering, until he couldn't stand the biting cold any longer.

He dressed up and poured himself a large mug of black coffee. This morning, he felt like drinking something different and coffee wasn't on his diet list, most of the time. He almost drank the content in one gulp. He was pouring himself a second one when someone knocked at the door. Hutch hesitated long enough to let Starsky know it was OK to come in without getting an answer, as usual.

"Hi there!" his friend happily claimed. "Where is my favorite Sleeping Beauty? Prince Charming has arrived!"

Hutch almost choked on his coffee and even spat some out while trying to catch his breath.

"What's the matter, Blondie?" Starsky said, gently tapping Hutch's back.

"Huh... Nothing... it's the coffee. It's too strong." Hutch avoided to look in his friend's eyes.

"Since when do you drink coffee in the morning? What about your awful blender mixture?"

"Er...I needed something stronger to wake me up." Hutch replied shyly.

"Can I have some?"

"Sure. Help yourself."

Starsky took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a large dose of the hot black liquid. He took a sip and made a face.

"You're right... can I have some sugar?"

Hutch took a small bowl with sugar lumps and handed it to Starsky which took two lumps and put them in his coffee.

"How can you drink that?" Hutch asked, with a disgusting grin.

"Hey, I like all the good things in life."

"I see."

"You should try them from time to time. Just for the taste of it. Life is short and there are so many wonders yet to discover and sensations to explore. I want to feel all the possible thrills there are to feel, taste every new flavor, bite into every new fruit, swallow..."

"Starskiiii, pleeeeeease!"

"What's the matter?" Starsky looked worried, as Hutch's face had suddenly turned very pale. "You're OK?"

"Yeah. I just need... I'm sorry, Starsk, I'm tired."

"As soon as you have some decent nights sleep again, you'll be as good as new. I promise."

"Perhaps." Hutch replied in a distant tone.

"Honey!"

Hutch startled when he heard the word.

"What?"

"Honey? I bet you hardly eat honey. I never found one jar in your kitchen. It's a hundred percent natural though, produced by lovely charming bees..."

"Starsky!" Hutch was starting to feel nauseous again.

"What?" Starsky felt his partner was really too preoccupied, or was it just because he had another bad night?

Anyway, he didn't insist and Hutch felt relieved that the conversation ended before he felt the need to shout or run like hell out of the house and as far away as he could from his partner in panic.

"Let's go. We need to meet with Abbott and Costello again this morning."

Hutch let out a long sigh which Starsky mistook for a complaint about having to work again with Callaghan and Engels.

"I know, but the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. I'll tell you frankly, I don't feel too good about this... I mean the case... I don't know. Something's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Something's missing. There is no apparent motive. The girls have been drugged. Killed. Scarred. And there is that note in Spanish. I just hope it's not one of these voodoo wackos. What if some disciple of Papa Theodore decided to perpetuate his master's tradition in here?"

"Starsky, that is a complete nonsense."

"I know, but... still..."

"Forget it. It's probably... well I don't know. But you're right. Let's hit the road."

Hutch snatched his jacket and headed for the door. Suddenly standing too close of his friend in the same room made him feel breathless. And the idea of being stuck with him in the Torino for the duration of their trip to Metro made him feel even worse.

 _Gee, how am I going to handle this? Please, I hope I'm wrong._

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They had found nothing new to dig. And Dobey was beginning to sound more irritated than ever.

Nevertheless, Hutch had an idea which could help them get a more precise profile of the killer, or at least of the author of the note.

Carl Esteban, the language expert the detectives called, had already collaborated with them two years before to translate the statement of a young murderer who only spoke Spanish. Esteban was a short man wearing oversized glasses which made him look more like an actor in comical TV show than a recognized expert in linguistics. Hutch was trying to convince himself that a single look at the note could enable Esteban to give them more elements than any other source.

When Esteban read the words, he frowned and at first he didn't utter a word. Starsky was already fidgeting on his chair. Esteban raised his eyes and closed them for a brief moment, as if he tried to find the right words that the detectives opposite were avid to hear.

Hutch hesitated then spoke first.

"Well? What do you think, Professor Esteban?" He asked, calling him by his title, hoping to stimulate a faster reply.

Esteban didn't seem to be reactive at all. On the contrary, he opened his eyes, slowly, took a deep breath and read the note again.

Then he started to talk. His voice was incredibly low for a man of his size. One would have expected a high pitch tone, to match his short and funny appearance.

"The fact that the note is in Spanish doesn't necessarily mean the author is Spanish-speaking, yet the words he or she chose make me think that's the case. Considering the words chosen, I would say the author had access to higher education. _"Desemboscará impostores y liberará los ángeles"_. Besides, there is no spelling mistake. This could be a detail, but it could also mean that the author is methodical. The word "desemboscar" sounds a little literary for someone of modest origin. Now the meaning eludes me, of course, because this is obviously a metaphor, but there is definitely a feeling of anger, hate, and a search for revenge."

The two detectives were listening attentively. Hutch was writing in the margin of the chart they had drawn earlier. Esteban paused for a moment.

"The reference to angels could mean the author believes in their superiority over the _imposters_ , but nothing indicates who he or she qualifies as such. This could mean he has been betrayed in the past. The angels are usually supreme and perfect beings: using that word could refer to one or several persons he treats with high consideration. Actually the note is too short to draw more precise conclusions on his feelings. But I can tell you there is revenge at stake; I would bet my life on it."

A heavy silence filled the air between them with even more tension.

"In other words, we aren't any further on than where we were. This guy could even have written this note to guide us in the wrong direction." Hutch sounded disappointed as he had expected the linguist to give them a real clue. "Well, anyway, thanks for your help."

Esteban looked at them and handed the note to the taller officer. "Good luck, detective."

"Thanks. Seems like we're gonna need some to unmask this weirdo."

Starsky sighed impatiently. "Do you think he or she could be crazy... and this note is nothing more than wild imaginings?"

"I can't tell for sure." Esteban frowned again. "Have you tried to go through the files of people you have arrested recently? Perhaps the revenge is aimed at you."

Starsky started. "Why is he killing those girls if he is after us? We didn't even know them!"

Esteban shrugged. "I'm sorry I can't help you any more than this."

"It might not be such a bad idea to go through the files of some _clients_ we have sent to Cabrillo. What do we have to lose, huh?" Hutch suggested, staring at his partner.

"If that's all, I'll head back to my office, gentlemen." Esteban stood up and extended a hand to both detectives before he left, leaving the detectives more puzzled than before.

"Okay" Starsky resumed. "Let's go through the files of Cabrillo patients who've been recently released. Maybe one of them wasn't ready to be set free."

"Yeah. Or maybe one of them has escaped and we weren't informed about it. After all, we aren't the only ones who fed that place with lunatics." Hutch seemed very calm on the outside, even if his heart was shivering now that Cabrillo was the next place to investigate. Their last mission had almost turned into a tragedy and their lives had been in danger, all because of a crooked doctor who wasn't crazy. So what if a real certified lunatic was "at large"?

They spent hours searching for names in their files. None of those they had arrested was reported missing or released. That empty lead left them discouraged one more time.

They were very tired. However, in the evening, Hutch reluctantly accepted his partner invitation to join him at the Pits. He simply couldn't refuse this time because they both had been invited to celebrate Huggy's birthday. And besides, Hutch thought it was the perfect opportunity to take his mind off his usual tormented evenings and agitated nights. A drink or two would certainly make him feel better.

Starsky was a bit exuberant, as always, when he felt totally relaxed among friends. After the third beer, he was telling one joke after another and Hutch forced himself to laugh along with the others, though he had some doubt about his best friend's sense of humor.

They played a few games of pool, and Starsky put his hand on Hutch's shoulder now and then to congratulate him on a good maneuver or gently tapped his belly to encourage him when he was losing.

Each time Starsky did that, Hutch felt a sudden wave of shame, fear and most of all a genuine impulse to run out of the place. However, he took it upon himself not to let his distress show and went on playing and drinking until Huggy called it a night and sent everyone home at half past one in the morning.

Starsky drove his partner home and when they had almost reached Venice Place, he briefly turned to Hutch and talked softly.

"You know somethin', Hutch?"

Hutch shivered. The way Starsky looked at him suddenly made him feel very uncomfortable. He turned his head the other way and saw his own reflection in the passenger window. The faint light from the lampposts along the streets gave a shimmering glow to his blond hair and made him look almost like an angel.

Starsky didn't seem to have noticed his partner's confusion.

"Huggy is really some guy, huh? He never seems to age a day, and we've known him for... what...more than ten years?"

"I don't know Starsky. Er...maybe we could discuss this in the morning. I'm exhausted right now."

"But..." Starsky looked at his watch. "It IS morning. Good morning, Babe!"

Hutch felt a wave of sickness climb inside his throat. Of course, they used to call each other with affectionate names and Starsky often called him _Babe_ or _Baby_ , Blue eyes, Nature Lover, _Golden Boy_ , and even _You Smooth Talking Devil You_ , but the most usual was _Pal_ , _Partner_ or _Buddy_.

Tonight, to hear the word escaping from Starsky's lips had taken a whole new dimension and made Hutch want to jump out of the car before the engine was even turned off.

Starsky didn't say anything more until he pulled over in front of Venice Place.

"Good night, Blondie."

"Night, Starsk. See you tomorrow."

"Yep. Hey... It was good to have you around tonight. It's been a long time. Does this mean you are feeling better?"

"Yeah... much better. Thanks, Starsk. Good night."

Hutch turned on his toes and almost ran to his apartment before he felt the need to confess what was troubling him right now, even more than the voice he had been hearing.

He didn't have the strength to take a shower. All his energy had vanished and he literally fell on the bedroom floor and fell asleep almost in a second.

 _Until tomorrow._

He did not react.

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When he woke up a couple of hours later, Hutch felt like his hangover was the punishment for having drunk too much in a sordid attempt to forget all the questions to which he couldn't find answers.

Before he went for a shower, he called Starsky and told him he would drive today. He thought that driving his own car - which was a bit more spacious than the Torino - would make him feel more secure.

All day long, there wasn't a moment Hutch didn't feel embarrassed when Starsky got too close to him, touching him - as they used to touch, in a casual manner - looking at him with that smile which could mean something more, just because Hutch was feeling uncomfortable, thinking that Starsky might feel the same way. When they were both reaching for the phone when it rang, Hutch quickly withdrew his hand, afraid their skins would touch, afraid of the chills it could have generated in him.

At the end of a day of inner turmoil, Hutch decided that he couldn't take it anymore.

"Starsk, why don't you come over this evening? My treat."

Starsky was so surprised that he gazed intensely in his partner's eyes. For a moment, it destabilized Hutch and made him almost regret to have uttered the invitation.

"Sure!" Starsky replied with delight. "I was wondering what got into ya! I'd love to. I'll bring a six-pack."

"Bring two!" Hutch replied.

"Wow! Party again! I like the sound of that."

Hutch smiled a shy smile and drove Starsky back to his place before hitting the pedal and rushing to Venice.

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(to be continued)


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hi Everyone,**_  
 _ **This is it. I mean... you'll get some clue of what's happening in here. Well... sort of...**_  
 _ **Thanks for sticking with our heroes, for the fav, the reviews, the PMs.**_  
 _ **I truly hope to see more of your reactions. You know feedback is like pure vitamins: and I don't mean just appreciation and feeling, but also what you think of the contruction of the scenario. Critics are more than welcome.**_  
 _ **Enjoy this one.**_  
 _ **See you next week.**_  
 _ **Lots of love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

When his partner arrived around seven, Hutch had already ordered in two large pizzas with pepperoni, mushroom, oregano, everything he usually avoided.

The smell of the pizzas he had put in the oven to keep them warm brought a large smile to Starsky's face.

"Hmm, smells delicious in here!"

"Gimme the beers. I'll put them in the fridge."

He took two cans from the pack, handed one to his partner, put the other one on the counter and stored the rest in the fridge.

Starsky sat on the couch and started to drink his beer.

When Hutch joined him, Starsky suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Sorry, Buddy. I should've waited for you. It sounds like you want to celebrate something, am I right?"

"Sort of." Hutch replied, while opening his own can and taking a large sip.

He decided that the best way to get rid of his doubts and torture once and for all was to take the plunge.

"Starsky..."

"Yes?"

"Er..."

"What's the matter, Babe? You seem like you got some bad news and you're afraid to tell me. What's eating ya?"

"Starsky, you know that voice... the voice I've been hearing..."

"Yeah. Still there?"

"Yes. Well, not last night. I guess I was too drunk and I fell asleep before she could say a word."

"So, now, tell me what's on your mind?"

"Starsky..." Hutch pleaded. He didn't know where to start.

"Yes, Hutch!" Starsky replied in exactly the same tone as his friend.

"Please, would you stop doing that!" Hutch complained.

"Stop doing what?"

"Let me finish." Hutch was now pacing the apartment like a lion in a cage.

"You haven't even started yet, Babe." Starsky was gently mocking him.

"And would you please stop calling me _Babe!_ "

"What's wrong with that?"

Hutch took another long sip of his beer. He looked at the plant hanging in front of the window, trying to avoid his friend's gaze as he was about to disclose what was making him feel so miserable.

"Do you remember what we talked about when John died?"

Starsky frowned for a moment and took another sip from his can. He licked his lips several times, staring at Hutch who felt like he was melting inside.

"You mean, when we talked about the amount of time that some people, or partners, spend together, which might lead to some conclusion?"

Hutch sighed deeply; relieved that his partner had apparently understood where he was leading the conversation. _Wow, does this mean he thought about the same thing, and ...maybe he feels the same way?_ Hutch now felt more uncomfortable than ever.

"Yes. You know, I've been thinking a lot lately…"

"No wonder you're exhausted, Buddy!"

Hutch smiled. This time, he didn't feel angry about his partner interrupting him with his usual sarcasm. On the contrary, this made it strangely easier to say the rest.

"When you said people could talk about … us... and..."

Starsky looked at his friend and smiled. When he spoke, his voice was soft and friendly and all what Hutch could expect.

"Hey, Buddy, don't tell me that this female voice you've been hearing made you think that you were... attracted... to ME?"

Hutch didn't reply. And his silence was an answer in itself.

Starsky stood up from the couch, came closer to Hutch, put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Huuutch! Told you this voice could be an ancestor... or a psychic talking from afar... and now you imagine that, because it is a female voice, you could be... gay, in love with me? Is that it? Is that what's troubling you?"

"Yeah." Hutch whispered an almost inaudible sigh.

"That's it! I'm gonna ask for a transfer. I can't stand this anymore!"

"What?" Hutch froze in despair. He felt like he was going to ruin more than 10 years of collaboration and even more than that of friendship and trust, just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Starsky put his can on the table with so much violence that it startled his friend and headed for the door. When he reached the threshold, he suddenly turned around and burst out laughing.

"Hey, gotcha! Blondie, get these ideas off your head, you big idiot! Geez, you'll never cease to amaze me! You are not gay... and neither am I. I love you, Buddy, more than anyone else in this whole world, but take that idea off your head that I'm _in love_ with you! I'm a ladies' man, don't you forget that!"

He sat back next to his friend, took his can and emptied what was left in one big gulp.

"Have you tried to get more details from this voice?"

"I... I'm afraid to ask."

"Don't be. Just ask!"

Hutch looked at his long-time friend with tight lips and wet eyes. He now felt a strong emotion climbing up his throat and feared the tears would flow freely in front of his partner. He was relieved he wouldn't have to lose Starsky's trust. And somehow he managed to contain the feeling of thankfulness which had spread in his chest, and discretely sniffled a couple of times.

"Thanks." Hutch now looked like the prodigal son who's just been forgiven the worst crime.

"For what?"

"For making me feel better... for... you know... letting me know that I'm not..."

"Forget it. Come here!" Starsky grabbed Hutch in a big hug like a wrestler's hold. It felt so good that Hutch's face relaxed in a large smile of heavenly contentment. "Hey, I'm starving and these pizzas smell awfully good. What do you say we start eating before they burn?"

"Right, let's eat!"

And so saying, Hutch took the pizzas from the oven, put them on large plates, cut several slices and they started to eat without another word.

After the last chunk of pizza had been swallowed, they rewarded themselves with another beer each and made themselves comfortable in the winter garden.

"What does your doctor say about this?"

"Huh?" Hutch was still lost in what had been troubling him over the last few days.

"You went to see a shrink, right? Well, what did he say?"

"He said I'm not a schizo."

"Good! Glad to hear that. Would have been a real drag to look for a new partner."

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted, faking indignation.

"But it's true. Good and reliable partners are hard to come by these days."

Hutch took another sip from his beer.

"What am I gonna do? I'm so tired all the time. You know, I fall asleep almost anywhere when I'm home. I even woke up on the kitchen floor once. I never made it to the bed. As if I were equipped with an ON/OFF switch and there is nothing I can do about it."

"Have you tried a less subtle approach?"

"Which is?"

"Talk to the damn voice! Try to find out who she is and what she wants."

Hutch felt a big relief in hearing his partner was neither shocked nor disturbed by what he had just confessed.

"I'm reluctant to speak to her... I don't know where this is gonna lead me."

"Try it. You'll never know otherwise. And it might be the best way to get rid of it in the end."

"Yeah... you may be right" Hutch whispered.

"You know I am, _Babe_!"

Hutch gave Starsky a fake nasty look.

"Hey, it's me, remember?" Starsky's eyes were full of thankfulness for the trust Hutch had finally shown him.

Hutch took him in his arms and held him tight against his chest.

"Ouch, let me breathe!"

"That's for the wrestler's hug! We're even!"

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When Starsky left late at night, Hutch felt tired enough to fall into a deep sleep and not hear the voice.

When he finally got to bed, after having cleaned the kitchen and taken a long hot shower, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on a quiet white sandy beach and soft waves rolling at his feet.

 _Are you ready to talk to me now?_

 _Jeez, I don't believe this._

 _You should._

 _Why am I hearing you again?_

 _Because I'm talking to you._

 _But you are not real!_

 _Yes I am._

 _Then who are you, dammit?_

 _I'm not ready to tell you... yet._

 _Where are you?_

 _Far away._

 _Doesn't help me much. Are you dead, trying to talk to the living?_

 _No._

 _Who else then?_

 _You'll know._

 _Why do you keep talking to me?_

 _I need you._

 _Me? What for?_

 _For what has to come next._

 _I don't understand._

 _The investigation._

 _What?_

 _And life._

 _I really don't get this._

 _I'm stuck._

 _Stuck? What do you mean?_

 _I need you._

 _Are you a psychic?_

 _No._

 _Are you trying to warn me about what has to come?_

 _Some more are in danger._

 _Who is in danger?_

 _More girls._

 _Do you know who they are?_

 _No._

 _Do you know who the killer is?_

 _No._

 _If you can't help me, what the hell?_

 _You have to trust me, for crying out loud!_

 _I can't accept this as an answer._

 _That's all I can give you for the moment. I'm sorry._

 _How could you possibly help me if you don't tell me what you know… who you are… or where you are?_

 _Can't. You wouldn't believe me._

 _Try me. I've been talking to you for a while now. Don't you think this is enough to trust me?_

She didn't answer. Hutch tried to concentrate as hard as he could, closed his eyes even tighter, but she was gone. He opened his eyes, looked around as if he expected to see someone in front of him. The presence had felt so tangible in his mind that he felt she could actually be there, real flesh, standing in his room.

 _Jeez, this is completely insane! Who the hell is she? OK, Starsk, thanks for the advice, Buddy, but I'm nowhere any further than before. And I really have the feeling to make an ass of myself._

He suddenly felt a big wave of fatigue and closed his eyes again and fell asleep in a minute.

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Nine o'clock. Hutch started to feel trapped, as he had every night since the last few weeks, between the walls of his unsolved reasoning.

He hadn't mentioned his last conversation with her to his partner. He trusted him implicitly, that was a fact he could and would never deny. But he wanted to get rid of this incredible nightmare by himself, once and for all. And he had decided when.

It would be tonight.

He ate rapidly, took a very hot shower to relax his aching back and got prepared to go to bed.

All lights were off. He was lying on his bed, in the dark. The only thing he could discern was Ollie, the white teddy bear on the chest drawer. He smiled at it, thinking that Terry would make fun of him if she had been there. She was so gentle and sweet and knew that entrusting him with his love and the teddy bear was the best proof of trust she could have given him.

He also thought of Gillian and how he missed her. Even if she had lied to him, she had paid with her life for the decision she made to quit her past and trust him with her unconditional love.

He felt the memory of a pain in his arm when the thought of Diane suddenly emerged in his mind. She was lost to the real world. And she had almost managed to drag him to hell too.

Abby had left after she was brutally assaulted by some weirdo who was seeking revenge on him.

 _Am I cursed? Each and every woman I approach suffers one way or another. Even Vanessa broke our sacred bond of marriage._

 _Now that woman is talking to me from God knows where? I don't even know who she is, what she wants, how she talks to me..._

He closed his eyes, very hard, and tried to figure out how she could look like.

 _I'm here._

 _Who are you?_

 _Please help me._

 _How can I help you? I don't even know you!_

 _I'm lost._

 _Where are you?_

 _I can't tell you._

 _Listen! If you need my help, you'd better tell me more than these two or three-word phrases. OK?_

 _OK._

 _Are you one of my ancestors?_

 _Told you no already._

 _Then who? I won't listen to anymore of this until you tell me who you are._

 _OK. But you're not gonna like this._

 _Try me._

 _I'm scared._

 _Of me?_

 _No, of what I'll become when I tell you._

 _Try me. Go ahead._

 _I'm ... the author._

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(to be continued)


	12. Chapter 12

**_Hi Everyone,  
I hope you'll understand and forgive me but I didn't feel like posting last week, because of what happened in Brussels. This is my home town and I felt like having fun with our characters here sounded weird. I've sent as many positive vibes through various channels, including calling and texting to all my friends living or working there to make sure they're all right. Thank God, they are and I'm so grateful for that. And deep in my heart, I've sent all the positive thoughts I could to all those who are in pain._**

 ** _Stay safe, Take care, all of you.  
Love,  
Lyxie_**

 ** _PS: A big THANKS to Litany: I really appreciate the time you take to decypher all the intricacies of this story. I'm so grateful for all the critics and suggestions, ya know :-). Big hug ^_^!_**

* * *

 _..._

 _Try me. Go ahead._

 _I'm ... the author._

 _The author of what?_

 _Of this._

 _I don't understand._

 _I knew you wouldn't._

 _THE AUTHOR OF WHAT?_

 _Of this story._

 _What the hell are you talking about? Which story?_

 _The one you are living right now._

 _Nonsense!_

 _Told you you wouldn't understand._

 _It's just not... possible. I must be dreaming._

 _You're not dreaming. Your eyes are closed.  
But you are awake.  
And I'm talking to you._

 _Fuck you! Is this a cheap trick of distant hypnosis?_

 _No. I'm writing... I WAS writing this... And..._

 _Leave me alone. Go to hell!_

Hutch opened his eyes, switched on the light, and as he still felt very uneasy about what he had just heard, he jumped from his bed and switched on all the lights in the apartment, as if to reassure himself that he had a grasp on his reality.

The voice was gone… For now.

He reached out for the phone, thinking that talking to Starsky could help. But he hung up before dialing the number.

He then went to the bathroom, looked at his face in the mirror, felt dizzy and even nauseous for a moment. He rushed to the shower cabin without even taking his clothes off.

 _I'm having a bad dream... and I'm gonna wake up, I wanna wake up from this nightmare!_

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When he arrived at Central the next morning, he was whistling like he was the happiest man on Earth. Starsky hadn't arrived yet. Each had decided to come each in his own car, because Starsky had to pick up a new girlfriend at the airport that evening. Hutch had made it clear then that he would drive himself home. Witnessing his friend's tactics and charming comedy with his new conquest wasn't his cup of tea for the moment. He had felt so much better after he got rid of the voice the night before and he wanted to savor that new state of mind.

When Dobey heard one of his men had arrived, he came into the door and almost shouted.

"Hutchinson! Now where's that partner of yours?"

Hutch looked up and saw a tired and angry look on his face. Obviously, the recent case wasn't doing anyone's moral any good lately. Four girls savagely murdered and they were far from solving the case.

"Er... he had to go to the dentist... I guess." Hutch said as normally as possible, trying to cover up that his partner missed his wake up call, and thinking that this lousy excuse would nevertheless have some positive effect on his boss's mood.

He was wrong.

"I want you both out there A.S.A.P., that means yesterday! Get the job done; the guys from the Bureau have been harassing everyone around here again! They think _they_ are in charge. But they have no more clues than you do. So why don't you try and find something to prove I was right to tell 'em you're the best elements of my team? Now move!"

He swung around and disappeared in his office, slamming the door behind him.

Hutch grabbed his jacket and left without another word. It was no use to argue with the Captain when he was displaying such a terrible mood. The only thing that would put a smile on his face and peace in his heart was if he and Starsky found and busted the murderer.

The only problem right now was that Starsky and he had absolutely no idea where to look. The girls had no connection between each other, whether professional or personal. They were from different social environments; they were working in different lines. They apparently never met; they didn't even live in the same neighborhood. The only common elements found between them were their average age, the note, the scars and the fact that they were all brunettes.

There certainly had to be a clue somewhere, a hint that had eluded everyone until then. And Hutch thought that, now he had decided to ignore the voice - which he thought had never been tangible anyway, merely an illusion in a tired man's head - he could be the one to go through all the elements of the girls files again and find that detail which would make the difference.

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Starsky had shown up even later than the rules allowed and appeared in the office looking strangely pale. He told Hutch he had not slept at all the night before.

 _So much for working together on the case_ , Hutch thought.

At the end of the day, Starsky had disappeared faster than lightning, after Hutch heard him answer a call from his girlfriend and tell her he would drive her home but wouldn't stay over.

 _Well, that's new!_

Before calling it a day, Hutch talked to his partner, asking whether he could help.

"Nah!" Starsky replied lightly. "You know me, a big glass of warm milk, ten hours of straight sleep and sweet dreaming and I'll be a brand new man tomorrow."

"Starsk, are you sure... you're all right?"

"Listen, Blondie," he whispered so that no one else in the office could make it, "I'm not hearing voices, if that's what you're afraid of. I can see it in your eyes, ya know. Ya never managed to hide anything from me. I'm just tired. That's all. I swear." And giving him a wink, he left.

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In the evening, Hutch took another long and refreshing shower - trying again to wash away the chills he had been feeling for days - prepared a vegetarian snack and savored it while watching an old movie - one of these oldies in black and white - and comfortably slid his body between fresh sheets.

Before he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but glancing at Ollie, that was watching him from the drawer cabinet.

 _Hey, dear Ollie, I'll keep an eye on you... and you keep an eye on Starsk, deal?_

He smiled as he noticed he had talked out loud.

 _This is nuts, I'm starting to talk to a furry toy now!_

However, he didn't think this was stupid. He remembered when Starsky had told him Terry used to sleep with Ollie and that from time to time, the toy seemed to comfort her each time she felt lost or hurt. To have been entrusted with it and Starsky's life had been the most powerful and important thing he had to abide by in his whole life and he intended to do just that. Keep Ollie, watch over it and Starsk.

He smiled to himself, closed his eyes and started to recite his favorite mantra, trying to induce sleep.

 _You're a good man._

 _Oh no, please, don't start this. I said I did not want to speak to you again._

 _That's not what you said._

 _Oh yeah?_

 _You said I could go to hell._

 _Whatever!_

 _I'm already in hell._

 _Shit, I don't wanna go through this anymore._

 _You have to. I'm real._

 _No, you're not._

 _Yes. I am._

 _Prove it!_

 _What?_

 _Prove it to me that you are who you say you are!_

 _How can I do that?_

 _You're the author, huh?... You should know._

 _I don't know what to say._

 _If you're really the author, tell me something no one else is supposed to know._

 _Like what?_

 _You can bloody well sort it out yourself!_

 _Don't be rude. This doesn't sound like you._

 _Oh yeah? How would you know?_

 _I know you._

 _Prove it!_

 _What?_

 _Prove it to me that you are who you say you are, dammit!_

 _How can I do that?  
…You have a little scar behind your left ear,  
which you got when you fell from a tree and hit a fence._

 _Nice try. Everyone could have seen that._

 _But does anyone know how you got it?_

 _Try something else, Lady. Like … what's gonna happen in the future._

 _I don't know._

 _How come the author doesn't know the next steps in her own story?_

 _I can't tell you that._

 _What about what you wrote before? If you're really who you are, who am I?_

 _You're Hutch._

 _Am I real?_

 _Oh yes, you are._

 _But you're writing this, I mean, right now, you're writing this as we go along. Gee, I don't even believe what I'm saying? This is nuts!_

 _You're not nuts. And you're real._

 _But, who am I? Really?_

 _You are a cop, working in Bay City, you live in..._

 _Stop the crap! Do I exist outside of your imagination?_

 _That's what I'm trying to tell you. You DO have a life._

 _I feel like shit, like I'm being washed away down the drain._

 _Please don't say that._

 _Am I just a mirage? And... What about the others? What about Starsky? Is he also a character you created?_

 _He is real too. Everyone is._

 _That doesn't answer the question!  
He is my best friend. Are... are we real?...  
Does my life have a meaning?_

 _Yes._

 _You haven't told me yet something which could prove what you say._

 _I...started to talk to you... because... I need you._

 _Huh? I don't get it!_

 _I need your help._

 _What for?_

 _For the future._

 _What's gonna happen next?_

 _I don't know._

 _You SHOULD know. You're the author. This is totally insane!_

He opened his eyes. He could still hear the voice. It was the first time she was talking to him when he was fully awake and aware. He decided to give it a try and get to the bottom of this experience and resumed the dialogue.

 _You've got to know! You're the one writing all this!_

 _But I'm stuck._

 _What do you mean?_

 _I lost the inspiration.  
I don't know what to write next. Told you, I'm stuck._

 _Get unstuck!_

 _I don't know how, for crying out loud._

 _What am I gonna do?_

 _I don't know._

 _Are we gonna get hurt? What about my partner? What about these girls?_

 _I have... no clue. This wasn't my idea in the first place._

 _WHAT?_

 _The girls. I didn't write this. I wanted the story to end well and..._

 _Shit! This is getting absurd. What can I do?_

 _You could help me._

 _Help you? How?_

 _You could... visit me._

 _Yeah, right, very funny. How do you expect me to do that? Jump out of the page?_

 _No, you can't._

 _Obviously! Then how?_

 _You could visit me... in my dreams._

 _Are you kidding?_

 _Not really. If it worked one way, it could work the other way too._

 _I... I could try. But how do I do this?_

 _Like I did. Waiting for sleep and closing your eyes very hard... and think of me._

 _Sure. And in about a few days, I'll end up in Cabrillo with a nice little white jacket around my torso._

 _No. Please, trust me. I swear... I told you the truth._

 _Sure. Nice try. Good night!_

He got out of bed, went to the kitchen and poured himself a large glass of cold water. After drinking it in one single gulp, he went to the couch, grabbed the remote and decided to watch whatever was being broadcast at this late night hour.

 _The author! My ass! Hutch, get a grip. Hey, you could almost start writing a novel on this... could be a funny story._

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(to be continued)

 **"When you close the book, does the story end? No! That's such a bland way to read. Every story goes on forever in our imaginations, and its characters live on."**

― **Mizuki Nomura**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Hi Everyone,**_  
 _ **New Wednesday, new chapter!**_  
 _ **Actually, I think I might post 2 per week instead of one from now on. Wednesday for sure... and sometimes during the week-end, you lucky ones!**_  
 _ **I'd like to highlight that this story has been sleeping in my computer hard disk for a few years and, after reading it again, I found some discrepancies. Nevertheless, I unanimously decided with myself and I to post it as such. I hope you won't scream if you come across some major script error; and I'd love you to point them out. Please, don't hesitate, that's what I wrote in the intro.**_

 _ **Have fun with this one ^_^**_  
 _ **Love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

When he took place on the passenger's seat in the Torino, he felt like he'd been fighting an army of professional wrestlers all night. He felt drained after he fought to push away the nightmares he was going through. He kept silent most of the journey to Metro, even when Starsky tried to engage him in a casual conversation.

When they reached their desk, Hutch poured himself a large mug of coffee. Starsky looked at him astonished.

"That's a new one, Blondie. What's got into ya?"

"Huh? Nothing... Having a hard time to wake up properly these days."

"This stuff will kill ya." Starsky said in a mocking tone.

"What?"

"You're not used to the strong stuff. You'd better be careful. Stick to your juices if you value your health."

"Starsk..."

"Yeah?"

"Stuff it!"

" 'Kay."

That was it. Starsky knew that, sometimes, it was better to let his friend stew in his own juice than to try to comfort him. Today was one of these days.

They spend a couple of hours at the Cabrillo Mental Institute, meeting with the director of the establishment and trying to ascertain whether any dangerous patient had escaped lately. Among those who had been released recently, none of them seemed to correspond to the profile they had painfully tried to build earlier. They were either women, all were Americans or very old patients who were now being taken care of by relatives.

They were somehow disappointed the visit had not shed any more light on their investigation.

"Shit! This means we're back where we started... that means zero!" Starsky groaned.

Hutch read the notes he had taken during the interview at Cabrillo.

"Perhaps not. Maybe there is a guy somewhere who was not a Cabrillo patient, maybe he was in a hospital somewhere else and no one had reported his odd behavior, or no one has identified it."

"Yeah, sure! That makes me feel so much better about knowing that this lunatic is free to go and kill whoever he wants to."

"Don't panic, Starsk, we'll-"

"I have every right to panic, God dammit. We have four dead girls on our hands, remember?"

"I know, Starsk. But look at it this way: even the Feds are lost. And I haven't gone through all our possibilities yet."

Starsky looked at his friend and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Hutch's face was relaxed, he was even smiling. A very odd idea had popped in his mind, but he didn't want to talk about it... yet.

"Just an idea. Let me think about it first, and then I'll tell you what I have in mind."

Starsky didn't insist; he knew, all too well, his friend was impenetrable when he wanted to be.

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"STARSKY... HUTCHINSON... IN MY OFFICE!"

"Our sweet Captain is calling." Starsky mumbled, jumping off the back of his chair where he was studying the chart they had drawn together.

They both rushed to their superior's office and took place in the chairs facing him.

"Any progress?"

Both detectives felt uneasy about the answer they were going to give.

"Not yet... Sir. But it's only a matter of time before we nail this son of a ..."

"I don't wanna hear excuses. I wanna hear the news that you've got him... or them. We still don't know whether he's acting alone."

"Yes, Sir." Hutch replied in a very polite way.

"Now, move it. Outa here! BOTH OF YOU!"

They rushed out and, this time, Starsky closed the door using his hand, instead of slamming it with his foot as usual. He saw that Dobey was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and, as no reliable element on the investigation was in sight yet, he decided to keep a low profile.

When Starsky pulled over in front of Hutch's, he turned off the ignition and turned to his passenger staring in front of him. Starsky could feel the concern, he could see the fatigue around his partner's eyes, and he could hear what he hadn't told him. He wanted to extend a hand, but he knew that this time, Hutch was reluctant to call for help or accept it when offered.

"Are you sure you're OK, Buddy?" Starsky asked softly.

"Yeah... Wanna come in for a beer?"

"You mean that?"

"Yes." Hutch replied, turning to face Starsky and smiled slightly.

"Great. I thought you'd never ask!"

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They stepped out of the car and climbed the stairs to Hutch's apartment.

But, somehow, Starsky felt that his friend wasn't in the mood to talk much. They sat in silence instead, sipping their beer. After about an hour of little talk, Starsky stretched his legs and arms, yawning broadly.

"Aaargh... I think I'll go home and hit the sack. I'm dog tired. Sorry Blondie."

" 's OK. I'm exhausted too. Sorry, Starsk, I haven't been real good company tonight."

"Hey, don't worry, pal. We'll catch up when this is all over, huh?"

No need to explain what "this" was referring to. The Case, with a capital "C", as in "Crime" or "Confusion", whatever...

After Starsky left, Hutch took a long hot shower, dried himself, put on night shorts and headed for his bedroom. Before going to bed, he took Ollie in his arms and felt the need to cuddle the toy, to hold it against his heart. Feeling the teddy bear against him was like asking Terry for advice about how to make the next move. She had entrusted him with David and the bear. But there were times where he didn't feel up to the task, feeling too weak, even clumsy. But not tonight. Oh no! Tonight, he felt lost. Alone. Angry. Scared. Because something out of the ordinary had happened to him, for no reason. Some twist of circumstances had adopted him as the main player of a weird game and he didn't want the role.

He went to bed, installed Ollie close to him, next to the pillow and switched off the light.

He closed his eyes.

 _Could we talk now?_

 _Shit! I told you to go to hell!_

 _Swell, you're in a good mood tonight!_

Hutch rubbed his temples and tried to make the sound in his head vanish. But this time it seemed to be more invading than ever.

 _I told you to leave me alone._

 _And I told you I can't do that.  
For crying out loud, don't you ever listen to what you're told?_

 _Hey, I should be the one to be angry here!_

 _Oh yeah?_

 _Yeah! If you're really who you say you are, why did you put me in this mess?_

 _What mess?_

 _The life I had. All the mishaps that I went through._

 _It's not my fault._

 _Oh no? You're the author, right? YOU write all this!_

 _That's it. Let go of your anger on me. I don't care._

 _Don't you try not to care, Lady, you coward!_

 _I'm no coward. I'm... scared._

 _Scared? Of what?  
Of having lost your precious inspiration?  
What should I say? I lost more than you.  
I'm... I'm not even sure I have a life. Dammit!_

 _You do. All you did lately, all you said, nothing came from me._

 _What do you mean, "Nothing came from you"?_

 _I did NOT write this._

 _So what do you think happened?_

 _I don't understand either.  
Seems you are independent from what I think and write._

 _But... what about the case? What did you plan for the case?_

 _I did not plan anything.  
That's why I tried to contact you.  
I'm stuck. No idea on how to sort this out._

 _I can't believe this.  
You put me in this shit.  
Now you've got to get me out. _

_Hutch, I swear I have no idea about the murders._

 _The case... escaped me... somehow._

 _Listen, huh... I don't even know your name.  
You do have a name, don't you?_

 _Yes. My name is Marie._

 _Marie who?_

 _Marie Lombard._

 _Is this your real name?_

 _Yes._

 _All right, Marie Lombard,  
You've got to make those little neurons in your brain work better than that,  
And you need to find a solution to this. _

_I...I'll try.  
But I told you, Hutch, it seems the story is going on without me.  
I'm able to be in contact with you,  
but the story goes on without me writing anymore of it.  
Can't explain it._

 _I don't believe this,  
Here I am, talking to the so-called author of my existence,  
And I am trying to talk her into helping to solve the case I'm in charge of.  
This is nuts! _

_No, it's not. Hutch, I feel the same way from here,  
You know, talking to you sounds as weird for me as it does for you. _

_Why? Why have I been through so much pain and trouble?_

 _I am not the only one to write about you._

 _You mean ... others are writing about ... this?_

 _Not about this story in particular. But other stories._

 _I think I'm gonna throw up. Or Die.  
Yes, die so this nonsense ends right now._

 _You're not going crazy.  
And I wanted to write some nice stories for you.  
But somehow, I lost control._

 _You lost control? Shit, what about the other writers?  
Did they lose it too? Are we just puppets for you?_

 _Certainly not!  
You're a true hero for all of them.  
Kind and brave and..._

 _Cut the crap! Don't try your phony compliments on me now!_

 _But it's true.  
And all the stories written about you and Starsky  
show how human and courageous you both are._

 _But... why haven't I found the right girl, for example.  
My whole private life has been a succession of failures and disappointments.  
Is that your idea - to you, authors - to treat your characters like that  
And put so much misery on their shoulders?_

 _I didn't want that for you. I swear._

 _So, others did. I never managed to be really happy.  
Vanessa left. Jeannie had to let go, because I almost got killed. Abby left because SHE almost got killed. Diana tried to kill me. Judith wouldn't stay, Anna couldn't, Kate was too high class for me, Mary was too hurt after her brother was shot, Kira couldn't make up her mind. Shit, is there any woman somewhere in your pages who could be the right one for me, for a change?_

 _I took care of you in my stories._

 _Oh yeah, when?_

 _Huh... actually this one was supposed to be just a story about another investigation  
and you were to find the bad guy and spend good times with Starsky,  
playing and laughing and..._

 _And? What the hell happened along the way, huh? Could you tell me what happened, for Christ sake?_

 _I'm sorry. Don't be angry._

 _You're right. I'm not angry. I AM FURIOUS! And as far as I'm concerned, you may as well go to hell, if there is one on your side. I don't give a damn._

 _Please, Hutch, if I don't finish the story, I don't know what's gonna happen._

 _How do you want me to know? I'll disappear... or you'll disappear. Who cares?_

 _I do._

 _Why?_

 _Because...I care._

 _I need to sleep._

 _I'll leave you now. Will you talk to me again... please?_

 _..._

 _Hutch?_

 _I'll try._

 _Thanks... Good night._

 _Yeah... sure..._

 _I mean it. Have a restful night._

 _Mmmm...  
You too._

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Hutch was known by his friends and colleagues to be the righteous type, but also to show a temper now and then, pointing the famous "Hutchinson warning forefinger" when a certain limit had been reached, occasionally shouting when the limit had been exceeded. But most of all considered him as one you could trust in all occasions, no matter what happened. Starsky knew that. He had known from the start, since their days at the Academy where a special bond immediately grew between them and never ceased to get stronger until today.

However, during the last few weeks, Hutch had displayed a different and unusual behavior, regularly absent-minded, looking tired, enveloped in a strange solitude which no one was accustomed to. None had tried to approach or talk to him, aware that the detective preferred to be left alone when preoccupied or hurt. Only Starsky seemed to have the ability and the right to get closer on those occasions; because the two of them were like brothers, soul mates, perhaps even more, but in any case, only his curly-haired friend was allowed in Hutch's emotional vicinity when the "Leave-me-alone" flag was floating around.

Surprisingly enough, Hutch had finally seemed to have overcome his recent moody humor. When he arrived at Metro, Starsky was already waiting, sitting on the back of his chair, sipping from a large mug of coffee and checking the four girls' files …again, after taking care of other smaller cases. All those present in the squad room heard Hutch detective enter and they looked at him in surprise. He was whistling, as he hadn't done in ages. Hutch went to his desk and took off his jacket.

"Hi, Partner." Hutch said in a clear and cheerful voice.

"Hi yourself... Well, what the hell happened ta ya this mornin'?"

"Nothing. Had a good night sleep, that's all... the best I've had in a long time."

"Swell. Glad to get my partner back. Want some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I had breakfast already."

" 'Kay."

"Dobey arrived?"

"Nah... Not yet."

"Are these the girls' files?" Hutch asked pointing to the documents displayed on Starsky's desk.

"Yep. I'm still trying to figure out what element could link them all. But so far, it's a complete mystery. "

Hutch sat at his desk and took a piece of paper and a long yellow pencil.

"So? Where are we going from here, Sherlock?" Starsky asked.

Hutch let a long sigh out.

"Don't know. It doesn't make any sense."

"Who told you that killers' intentions should have to make any?" Starsky replied, with frustration.

"I thought that maybe we could have found... something... anything."

"Apart from their average age, their size, and the fact that they were all brunettes and single at the moment they were killed..."

"That's an awful amount of common points, don't you think?"

"It sure is, but there is no other connection which would lead us to the beginning of a clue. The other thing we know is the killer is going through the same morbid ritual, drawing the same tattoo with a knife and leaving a note in Spanish."

"Why is he only dealing with brunettes?" Hutch whispered to himself.

"Why do you ask?"

"Huh?"

"What did you say about brunettes?"

Hutch looked up at his partner, his eyes questioning. "Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself."

Starsky took another long gulp of his coffee and asked his partner in a very low whispering voice.

"What about her?"

Hutch raised his eyes from the paper in front of him.

"Who?"

"You know... _her_." Starsky said, inclining his head and opening his eyes wide while staring at his partner.

Hutch seemed to understand.

"Oh, _her_. Well, er... she... "

He did not know whether he should tell Starsky about the fact that he had completely given in and had a long conversation with her. This time, he was reluctant to confess to his best friend, even if it wouldn't look as a sign of madness.

"Did you talk to her or not?" Starsky insisted.

 _Okay,_ thought Hutch _, what the hel!. Maybe he can help me see this more clearly._

"Yes. Actually... Er, Starsk, can we talk about this when we're outside?" he said, feeling too uncomfortable to talk about the subject in the office while others might catch part of their conversation.

"No prob'."

They went on with scrutinizing the files until Dobey showed up fifteen minutes later. Their chief was obviously in a terrible mood and his face clearly reflected the lack of sleep over the past few weeks.

"What are you two doing here still?" he shouted without even greeting his men.

"Good morning to you too, Captain." Starsky said. "We just came to pick up some notes and we're outa here. See?" he went on, already jumping from his chair.

Hutch took his notes, stuffed them in his jeans pocket, snatched his jacket and followed Starsky.

"Good day, Captain." Hutch said before disappearing passing by the black man, who was still standing in the middle of the squad room, his hands on his hips. The other cops were staring at him. Dobey looked around as if he was searching for someone to shout at. But he just frowned.

"And I guess you all have something better to do than sit there with your mouths open, right? So get back to work!"

He turned on his toes and quickly disappeared into his office, violently slamming the door behind him.

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The detectives had gone through the usual procedure while investigating on the case. During several days, they had talked to the families or relatives or friends of the different girls. They had tried to remain calm while collaborating with the Fed agents, who were still acting as is they were totally in charge and confident that _they_ would be the ones to solve that mystery.

In the meantime, the Torino was patrolling the streets and Dobey's best men were taking care of other minor cases each time they were summoned by Dispatch. As they were spending more than ten hours together each day, this would give them plenty of time to thoroughly discuss the "brunettes' case".

Hutch took the paper from his pocket and started to read it carefully. He looked at the columns he had drawn, the names, the age, brunettes, their job. Nothing made sense. He felt like the killer was hitting at random, picking one brunette in the street and brutally attacking her. But there had to be some well hidden clue behind all this. Each act of violence had a motive, each action had a cause, and they would find it, eventually. He just hoped the solution would show up soon, otherwise there would be a wave of panic through the entire city if the media started to home in on the story and demonstrate that the police was unable to protect its citizens.

He wrote five letters in the margin of his notes. Starsky attempted to quickly read what his partner had written.

"What's that you wrote? Any new idea?"

"Nah... Just a reminder."

"Ma... Can't read. What did you write?"

"Er... Marie."

"Marie? Who's...? Now wait a minute! Marie... is that the girl talking in your head?"

"Er... yeah."

"Why do you think she could help us?"

"Told you. Just a hunch. I don't wanna talk about this... not now.

"You don't trust me any more, Buddy? One thing for sure, I won't steal her from ya! She's in your head, no tmine, so you don't need to worry."

"It's not that. Starsky, please, I don't wanna talk about it now, OKAY?"

" 'Kay. No fuss."

Starsky drove in silence.

At the end of their shift, Starsky drove back to Metro so that Hutch could get his car and drive himself home. Once more he declined his friend's invitation for a quick meal and beer. But this time, the reason was not that he felt tired. He was waiting for the night to come so he could resume his conversation with Marie. Without really admitting it to himself, he felt compelled to go on with this weird experience even if he wasn't really buying the "author" explanation.

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When he reached his place, he adopted the same ritual: a quick light meal, a long shower. Then he lay on his bed, once again glancing at Ollie, who just stared back at him.

He breathed slowly and deeply, trying to relax and waited.

All he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat pumping in his ears. He could also feel the pulse in his fists, tightly squeezed along his body. He realized he was not relaxed at all, opened his hands, put them flat on his belly and tried to concentrate on his breathing.

He let himself feel all the emotions which were surfacing at this moment. The most powerful one right now was fear. He was afraid that all this had just been an illusion, a bad walking dream. How could he possibly be nothing but a character in a book written by someone else? He squeezed his eyes shut. It sounded so awkward that he smiled at the idea and was trying to convince himself that his imagination had been playing tricks on him when he heard the voice.

 _Hello, Hutch._

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(to be continued)


	14. Chapter 14

_So you're back._

 _Told you I would come back._

 _Are you really who you said you are? I mean: the author?_

 _Yes, I am. Don't you believe me now?_

 _It's... it sounds so... impossible.  
I mean, I have a life, I feel things, and I have a will of my own...  
How could all this be nothing but words in your book?_

 _Hutch, there has been... how can I say this... a rupture._

 _A rupture? I don't get it._

 _Neither do I._

 _A rupture in time? No, that doesn't make sense; you are living at the same... Oh Gosh!_

 _What?_

 _WHEN are you living?_

 _Same period as you… I guess.  
Hutch, I know this sounds weird._

 _You bet it does!_

 _I don't have any explanation for this._

 _Can I ask you something?  
How comes I am the only one to hear you?_

 _I have no idea. It just... happened._

 _Did it happen before? I mean... with other stories?_

 _Never. You're the first one._

 _The other stories... what were they like?_

 _Happier, I guess. I'm sorry about all this._

 _Sorry? About what?_

 _I've not been feeling well lately…  
I guess that's why I couldn't write anymore._

 _Are you sick?_

 _N-... No. I'm... I think I'm going through some depression._

 _Great! What about me then?_

 _What do you mean?_

 _If you're depressed and you can't write anymore, what's gonna happen to me?  
To Starsky? To all of us?_

 _I told you, Hutch, I'm not in control of this story anymore. And don't ask me how this happened,_

 _I haven't a clue. I am as perplexed as you must be._

 _So stop harassing me about the future, I can't see into it, for crying out loud!_

 _Okay, okay! Listen, Mary..._

 _Marie._

 _What?_

 _It's Marie. Not Mary. Marie, pronounced as in French._

 _Oh, sorry. I didn't catch that!_

 _You sound ironic._

 _Oh yeah? Well, it's my turn now to be sorry, MA-RIE._

 _You make it sound like I'm guilty of something awful.  
I'm not!_

 _Sorry... I didn't mean to be rude._

 _..._

 _Marie?_

 _...Yeah?_

 _I'm sorry, all right?_

 _Okay._

 _Listen - Marie - when you started to write this story,  
what did you have in mind for the rest of it?_

 _I'll be honest with you.  
For the first time, I was writing as it came along,  
without a preliminary script, like I usually do. _

_You mean you have no idea about the killer's profile?_

 _No. I'm... I'm really sorry.  
The only thing I thought about is that he is seeking revenge,  
but I didn't establish why._

 _Great!_

 _I'm sor-..._

 _Don't say that again!  
It makes me even more nervous._

 _All right._

 _Hey, I just thought that you know everything about me  
and I only know your name. How are you?_

 _I'm... tired and... sad._

 _No, I mean how do you look like?_

 _Oh, I'm 33. I'm a blonde, short hair, five nine._

 _Where are you from?_

 _New York._

 _Are you there right now?_

 _Yes._

 _This is nuts!_

 _What is?_

 _All this! I still find it difficult to convince myself I'm talking to the author of what I'm living.  
It's so... unbelievable!_

 _You know, Hutch, when it all started,  
I did not understand what was happening either.  
Something occurred that connected both dimensions.  
It sounds like science-fiction, but it really happened.  
Each time you prepare to go to sleep, I'm connected, somehow._

 _But when I am awake, what do you do?_

 _I write._

 _But it's not possible for you to write all the time when I'm awake during the day?  
That means you couldn't do anything else during that time?_

 _I can't explain it either.  
I usually write from the end of the afternoon until late at night.  
Don't you think I have asked myself the same questions?  
How is this possible? I don't know, I told you._

 _Can I ask you something?  
Why didn't you describe a better life for me?  
I don't know, some nice existence on an island, for example.  
And let me have me a nice car? Stuff like that._

 _Hutch, I told you, I'm not the only one writing about you.  
I... Oh shit, this makes no sense!_

 _Looks who's talking! No sense?  
What am I supposed to feel? Huh?_

 _Each author writes a fiction  
and puts his character in whatever situation he or she wants to._

 _Splendid!_

 _Don't be mad at me!  
I didn't want this one to be hard on you._

 _Thank you so much!_

 _You sound ironic again._

 _Who... me? No kidding?  
You know what? I'm tired. Gotta sleep.  
So long, Marie!_

 _OK. Good night, Hutch._

 _Yeah... sure._

Hutch opened his eyes to break the link and thought about the conversation he just had. _What if I make another appointment with that psychiatrist? This is completely insane; just listen to me, talking to someone pretending to be the author of my existence. Yet, why do I feel this is for real? Gee, Hutch, go to sleep. Forget it for now._

He looked at Ollie and thought about Terry's words. _Don't let them change_. He smiled at the idea that he was the one changing, fast, and not necessarily for the better.

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"Hutch?"

"Mmm... What?"

Hutch was typing his report on the arrest they had made in the morning. A teenager had broken into a jewelery store with the gun he stole from his father and had tried to rob the same Asiatic jeweler who had sold Starsky the watch of his dreams a couple of years ago. The shop owner hadn't been particularly happy to see the detectives again. During the arrest procedure, the curly-haired detective was eyeing on the counters again, letting his fingers mark on the immaculate glass.

"I need to talk to you about..."

Starsky raised his eyes from his own report and saw anxiety in his partner's eyes.

"What's the matter, Blondie? Your typewriter's stuck again?"

"Nah, it's... I need to talk to you about _her_."

Starsky stopped writing at once and was suddenly very attentive.

"Go ahead. Have you found who she is?"

"Er... yeah... sort of."

"What do you mean _sort of_?"

"It's not the right place to talk about it but-"

The door banged open behind them and Dobey emerged.

"Huggy called. He wants to talk to you right now. So you'd better hurry and see what he has to tell you."

"Why didn't he call _us_?" Hutch was surprised.

He wanted to call Huggy and reached to pick up the phone. He then noticed the receiver was not properly set on the hook. He put it back in place.

"Sorry 'bout that, Captain!"

"Never mind. Get your asses there right now!"

"But we're not done with our reports yet."

"Your friend sounded rather nervous so you'd better head to Huggy's place now. You'll finish your reports later."

"As you wish, you're the Boss."

Hutch gave his partner a quick glance and both detectives stood up in perfect synchrony and rushed out of the squad room before Dobey was back in his office.

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When the Torino pulled over in front of the Pits, it was 10 o'clock and Huggy was emptying bottle racks he had just received and putting full bottles on the counter behind him.

"What's shakin', Hug? Dobey said you wanted to see us pronto, what's the emergency?"

Huggy went on with his task while he answered the detectives.

"Have you found that killer yet?"

"No. Why d'you ask?"

"Because I hear a lot of my customers talk about it and it starts to make a lot of people nervous around here, especially my waitress."

Starsky sighed.

"I knew it. There was a reporter on site when the fourth girl was found. I hate those weasels! Dobey was right, if the media start to make their front page with this story, we're gonna be pointed out again."

"You'd better use your best hunting' instincts then, otherwise there's gonna be a wave of paranoia spreading across town soon enough."

"We're doing our best, Hug." Starsky replied.

"You seem a bit off-color, Hutch, what's the matter?"

"Huh? I'm just thinking..."

"You'd better think faster, ma man. What about the notes which was found on the girls bodies?"

"No much more explanation with this either." Hutch was staring at his reflection in the mirror behind Huggy. He saw the dark marks below his eyes. "But I have... a gut feeling we're gonna find something very soon."

"Oh yeah?" Starsky turned to his friend in surprise. "Did you find something you didn't tell me about?"

Hutch looked embarrassed for a brief moment.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You'd better start telling me now. Huggy isn't the only one who's worried. You know, Kim is a young brunette too and she told me she'd rather put an end to your relationship and leave town than end up in the street with her throat slit."

"She isn't very motivated about staying with you, huh?"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Yeah... a little." Hutch smiled an almost embarrassed smile. "Huggy, we'll do our best to solve this before it turns to city-wide panic. You can reassure your waitress... By the way, isn't there something urgent you wanted to tell us?"

"There is a group of four Spanish-speakers I have seen hanging around at the Pits lately. I thought perhaps you could ask them questions. I think they graduated recently. Anyway, could be worth a try. At this point, anything is worth trying, right?"

Hutch took his small notebook from his inside pocket. "Do you know any of them? Names? Are they regular customers? We could meet them here next time they come at the Pits."

"I told you before, I don't take names. But I've overheard they recently got their diploma as teachers. They have come every Saturday for the last month. Next time I see 'em, I'll try to "overhear" more details. But that's all I can do, man, you know I never ask to see my clients' IDs; against the rules."

"Which rules?" Starsky asked.

"Huggy's rules."

Hutch smiled. He put the notebook back in his pocket. "Thanks Hug."

"Any time, ma man!"

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Once back in the Torino heading to the Precinct, Starsky couldn't resist it any longer and turned to his passenger.

"What is it you wanted to explain to me?"

"Starsk... not now, not here."

"Here and now, Buddy! I'm tired to all your mysteries and if there is anything you know that can help us solve this case, I'd appreciate you let me in. OKAY?"

Hutch let out a deep breath.

"Okay. I talked to her last night again."

"Oh yeah? And?"

"Starsk, I really don't know how to tell you this."

"Tell it like it is, period!"

"She told me who she is."

"Great!"

Hutch kept silent.

"Well, who is she? Hutch, don't make me beg for every other answer!"

"She told me she's... the author."

"Huh? The author of what?"

"Of this."

"This what?"

"Er... this story."

"You mean she is the author of the murders?"

"No... She's the author of the story... the one we're in?"

"I don't get it."

"I didn't either, at first."

"Hutch, please, could you explain in simple and easy words what you mean?"

"She is the author of everything we are living now. We are characters in a fiction she is writing. There, are you happy?"

Starsky's eyebrows raised and he started to laugh.

"That's it! The treatment your shrink gave you finalyy got to what's left of your brains."

"No, it's not that."

"Oh yeah, that's it, it sounds to me like this treatment is doing more harm than good. Hutch... wait a second."

Starsky pulled over as soon as he had the chance to find an empty space.

Then he turned to ignition off and looked at his friend.

"Hutch, look at me. I never thought you would imagine such a crazy story to explain what you've been going through. Hearing a voice in your head is one thing, building up a crazy story like that could lead you to Cabrillo. And I don't wanna lose you because you can't take a real break and get a grip."

"I'm not nuts, Starsk. I... I believe her."

"Hutch, please, don't do this to me... to yourself. What's eating you? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid anymore. Her name is Marie. And she is a writer."

"No. You made that up."

"No, I didn't."

Hutch now turned his body to face Starsky.

"Have you never imagined that there may be strange circumstances which we can't explain or-"

"There is one right in front of me that _I_ can explain. You're too exhausted to even realize what you're saying."

"Hey, you're the one to read strange stuff such as _How to read the mind of your partner in three lessons_!"

"This has nothing to do with it."

"Oh yes, it does. Maybe we aren't characters in her fiction. Maybe we ARE real, and maybe she IS a writer, living in another place and time and maybe a connection just took place between us. I didn't say we are not flesh and blood. She may be a psychic, reaching out from far away. I don't know, Starsk. All I know is she told me that she is writing this story and she's experiencing a writer's block."

"Huh huh... go on."

"She has been writing on me, on us and now she's lost the inspiration."

"Fantastic! And now how are we supposed to know what's gonna happen if she doesn't write the rest?"

Hutch choked hearing his partner's last words.

"S...Starsk... you...believe me?"

"Yeah, why not? What the hell? I don't want a new partner, even if _you_ sound totally nuts. All I know is we have a serial killer to nail and if you think your so-called author can help us, I'll buy it."

Hutch suddenly had a hard time to breathe.

"Starsky... I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing. Act. Talk to her. Find what she knows… how she can help us… where she's from…"

"You... are you sure you wanna go on with this... with me?"

"Hey, partner, how long have we known each other, huh? Twelve, thirteen years? If I didn't trust you completely, I'd never have remained at your side for so long, instead of raising a family and a peaceful retirement in Bolivia."

"Starsk... you mean..."

"Hold it, Blondie. I don't mean anything else than what I just said. You're my partner, my best friend, the other part of my soul and I love you... Not the way you imagined... but the fact is I never regretted having chosen my way of life instead of another one. Capice?"

"Yes."

Starsky turned the ignition back on and drove back to the Precinct.

During the trip, he couldn't refrain from asking one more question to Hutch.

"I still wonder about one thing, though."

"What?"

"Why did she contact you instead of me?"

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(to be continued)


	15. Chapter 15

Hutch invited Starsky over for the evening. Somehow, he wanted to make it up to him, even if he couldn't find the reason why he should feel guilty. His friend's reaction had taken him by surprise earlier that day. First Starsky had thought his friend was completely and definitely losing it; then he had shown more understanding; at last, he had let his jealousy show.

And now Hutch was feeling more uncomfortable than ever with his best friend. How could he explain that this woman had chosen him instead of his best friend, meanwhile he couldn't even find the reason why she had connected with him in the first place?

"You know..." He said while pouring two glasses with red wine. "I'm not surprised she contacted me instead of you."

Starsky took the glass Hutch was handing him, took a sip, and smacked his lips.

"Oh yeah, and why's that?"

"'Cause you can't relax. I've always told you that you should try yoga from time to time. It'd help you listen to your body."

"Thanks very much for the advice, but no thanks. That's when you start hearing voices." Starsky smiled.

"Sometimes, yes, and you can even learn to teach your body to heal itself when it's in pain."

"So you still don't think it could be a psychic or a dead person talking to you?"

"No."

"It could have been a man, right? Why a woman?"

"I don't have the answer to this. Do I sense a tiny bit of envy in your voice?"

"Envy?"

"Yeah. Because it's a woman. I bet you'd love to hear her voice."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Because it's very soft and calm and, somehow, I can sense she's fragile. You'd love to help her, for sure. Always the ladies' man at work, huh?" Hutch's voice was teasing again.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It might have been you. She chose me. Don't ask me why. Period."

"So you still think she can help us with this?"

"Starsk, she said she was _writing_ this. And now she's stuck. I don't care what it really is about, as long as I feel alive and kicking and I keep control on what's happening to us."

"What if we _lose_ control and something bad happens?"

"She won't let that happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because she told me so."

"Great. That makes me feel so much better now!"

"Starsky, please, just play the game, will you?"

"You dare to call this a game? I call it a nightmare!"

"That's unfair! You're not the one who's trapped in it."

"Looks like I am too, if this is just a fiction and we are the main characters of it. Geez I don't even believe what I've just said. Listen to me, I always thought you were the one with a weird approach to existence, but this... this is... I can't even find a word to describe it!"

" _This_ is life as we've always known it. Nothing's changed."

" _You_ said that!"

"Yes, I did, and I will talk to her again, I'm sure she can help us solve this murder case."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Just a hunch."

"A "Hutch hunch", you should get a patent for this one, Buddy!"

"Laugh if up, Curly, I'll get us out of this unsolvable mystery."

"Mazeltov! God help us."

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Starsky was snoring peacefully on the couch. Hutch had taken a very quick shower after his partner and was now lying on his bed, with his eyes wide open and his thoughts focused on what he wanted to say to Marie. He was lying above the sheets, hoping she would show up soon. After he waited for more than an hour, he couldn't keep his eyes open and fell asleep. _Perhaps this was just a nightmare; Starsky may be right after all. But somehow, I doubt it_ , he thought before snoring lightly like his friend in the other room.

 _Hello, Hutch._

Hutch woke up with a start, as if someone had blown a horn next to him.

 _Hi, I thought you'd never show up._

 _Don't worry;  
I can't stop this anymore than you can._

 _I still feel a little bit difficult to go through this._

 _Don't try to explain it.  
I don't try either._

 _Tell me about yourself._

 _What do you wanna know?_

 _Anything. Everything. Who you really are._

 _I'm..._

 _The author, I know that. I mean, are you a professional writer?_

 _No. I just write during my spare time,  
which I have a lot actually._

 _What do you mean?_

 _I work at the registration desk in a big hotel._

 _Oh and when you're not working there,  
you write about us, is that right?_

 _Yes._

 _Tell me, do you always write dramatic stories like this one?_

 _No. As a matter of fact,  
I've written several more humorous ones._

 _Glad to hear about that. On us too?_

 _Yes._

 _And what happens in those humorous stories?_

 _Er... in one of them, you get married...and have a daughter._

 _But I'm not married!_

 _I know... at least not in your time line._

 _Wonderful! Okay, what the hell!  
How is my wife? What her name?_

 _Isabel._

 _Sounds Spanish._

 _She is. You met her in LA._

 _What about my daughter?_

 _She is very cute. Her name is Dolly._

 _Dolly?_

 _Actually, it's Dolores._

 _And how is my beloved wife?  
Because I suppose I fell madly in love with a gorgeous one, right?_

 _She... er... she looks a lot like me._

 _Oh? Don't tell me, you fantasized about being a heroine yourself  
in one of your own stories?_

 _Not really.  
I didn't have enough inspiration to think about an original character,  
so I described myself instead._

 _So, what do YOU look like?_

 _I'm a brunette, 5'6' with curly hair._

 _What else?_

 _Er... I'm a bit embarrassed to tell, because I …_

 _You what?_

 _Okay, I have to tell you that I usually prefer your partner._

 _Huh? You mean, you are attracted to Starsky?_

 _Er... yeah._

 _This is so nice to hear!_

 _I'm sorry, you asked for it._

 _Whatever!_

 _Don't be mad at me.  
I'm not responsible for what's happening._

 _Forget it! I'm still stuck with this investigation.  
Why did you imagine such a dark story?_

 _I … I don't know.  
I guess it made me feel better._

 _Better? I don't understand._

 _I've been having nightmares for a while now  
and I wanted to get rid of them.  
So writing a dark story became like a cure._

 _Some nightmare! Thanks for putting me into it!  
What if I'm dreaming all this?_

 _No, you're not._

 _I may have found a way to solve the brunettes' case thanks to dreaming._

 _This is NOT a dream!_

 _Prove it!_

 _I told you, Hutch, I know a lot of things about you,  
like the names you gave to your plants._

 _Oh yeah, just give one!_

 _Cindy._

 _Right! But if I'm dreaming, this is just a memory and I'm talking to myself,  
So this is no proof…  
Because all the proofs you're gonna give me are in my head already._

 _I told you, you aren't dreaming._

 _Try again, then!_

 _Okay, Starsky is gonna give you something special for your birthday in two days._

 _What?_

 _A bird._

 _A bird?_

 _Yes, an artificial exotic bird to put in your winter garden,  
an exquisite one that sings softly and gives you the impression  
of being in the Amazon forest. You're gonna love it._

 _Where did you get that info?_

 _Remember, I imagined it.  
Only I could know about this, apart from Starsky.  
Besides, I wrote this a while ago, as a separate paragraph,  
not knowing where I'd insert it._

 _Okay, let's wait until that day, to see this birdy and then, I might believe you._

 _You have to believe, and we have to talk more,  
because I feel I've lost control of the story._

 _How am I supposed to find the killer, then?_

 _That's what I wanted to talk to you about._

 _You know who the killer is?_

 _No. But I may guide you during your investigation._

 _I don't understand._

 _I'm tired.  
I'll have to tell you later._

 _Yeah, AFTER I got my birthday present!  
So long, wonderful writer, or whoever you are!_

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The real challenge for Hutch now that he had decided to wait and see what Starsky would offer him for his birthday was to avoid answering Marie's calling at all costs.

At the end of the day Hutch was supposed to celebrate his birthday cheerfully and had convinced Starsky to enjoy a simple dinner at his place. "I'll cook" he had said, smiling at Starsky whose face said he would have preferred to enjoy a greasier food in one of his favorite places in town.

Starsky brought a bottle of wine and when he knocked on the door and waited, feeling exceedingly polite for a change, Hutch just shouted a "C'mon in, Buddy".

Hutch's place was filled with a delicate smell of cinnamon which made Starsky curious about the menu while his mouth started to water.

"Hi. As you refused to let me know what's cooking, here you go." He said, giving the bottle to his partner. "Vino de la casa" he proudly announced.

"Perfect! Thanks" Hutch took the bottle and put it on the table, where two candles were shining softly and giving the room a very – perhaps exceedingly – romantic atmosphere.

Starsky headed for the fridge and, without asking as usual, opened it while asking:

"Got a beer left in there? My mouth is dry!"

"Sure. Help yourself, and while you're at it, get one for me too, would you?"

Starsky was wearing a black leather jacket with very big pockets. The left one was lumpy and before he opened his bottle, he reached for the contents in his pocket and handed it to Hutch.

"Er... Happy Birthday, Blondie!"

Hutch reached for it and suddenly stopped.

"Before I open it, I gotta tell you something."

"Yeah, I know: ' _Thanks'_. You're welcome!"

"No, it's not that."

"No ' _Thanks'_?"

"Yes, but..."

"So? Now the formalities are over, you may open it. Here, take it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wanna tell you first what's in there."

"How would you know?"

"I just know, Starsk."

"And who told you? I went to buy this by myself and didn't tell anyone."

"Marie told me."

"Who?" Starsky frowned for two seconds and then his eyebrows raised. "Oh sure, you're counterpart from Unknown Reality."

"Don't laugh. Do you want me to tell you what you brought me?"

Starsky didn't seem amused anymore.

"It's... supposed to be a surprise."

"It is. Well, it WAS when Marie told me what you bought."

Starsky stretched his back, raised his chin defiantly and stared at his partner.

"All right, smart ass, tell me what's in the box."

Hutch breathed deeply. _What if she was wrong? What if I missed it?_

"It's... a bird... for my winter garden."

Starsky just stood there, motionless, silent, as if he had been struck by lightning, his arm still extended to Hutch, with the box in the palm of his hand.

Hutch savored the moment, as he understood he was right, just looking at the miserable face Starsky made.

"Is that it? Was I right?"

"Er... yeah. You spoiled my surprise!"

"I didn't. SHE did. See? I'm right. Only the one who created this -" He gestured around him to embrace their environment "-could have known what you were the only one in the whole world to know. Because I suppose you kept this little secret for you and you alone, am I right again?"

"Yeah." Starsky replied humbly. His attitude indicated that this time, he really started to buy his partner's story for good.

Then he exploded.

"That's not fair!"

"No, it isn't. But I'd like to open it anyway."

"What?"

"My gift. Can I open it now? I may know what's inside; I still don't know what it looks like."

"Oh... sure... here."

Hutch unwrapped the box. The bird he found carefully wrapped was the most beautiful piece of art he ever seen and when he got it out of the box, it started whistling delicately. Its colors were clear and shiny and, from a short distance, it would be easy to believe it was real.

"Starsky, where did you find this? It's... beautiful."

"I never reveal my sources!" Starsky replied in the same disdainful tone that he used when replying to the Feds when the latter wanted information from Dobey's detectives.

"Marie told me what it was, but she didn't tell me how delicate it was."

"At least, she didn't spoil it to the last."

"Starsk, don't be angry. I think..."

"Don't!"

"Don't I what?"

"Don't try to make it up to me."

Starsky looked miserable.

"She told me... she actually had a crush... on you."

Starsky didn't react immediately. When the information finally made his way to his brain, he smiled faintly.

"She did?"

"Yeah."

Starsky's face lightened up but then he frowned again.

"Then why the hell did she get in touch with YOU in the first place?"

"I don't know. She told me more about what she's writing about. Actually it isn't the first time that she has written about us. In another of her stories, I got married and I had a daughter."

"This is getting better all the time! And all this because she had a crush on ME? Where's the logic in there?"

"Perhaps she knows you more than you imagine. You never stayed long enough with anyone to plan for long commitments."

"Speak for yourself, Blondie. With your lousy taste in women, I'm surprised you even found one who would agree to marry you and have a kid."

"Hey, who do you think you're talking to?"

"I'm talking to the guy who thinks our lives are nothing but a fantasy elaborated by a hypothetical voice who claims to be the author of... Oh, what the hell, I've had enough of this crap!"

"Starsky, calm down."

"I _am_ calm. But do you realize where this is taking you? Where this is taking _us_?"

"Where?"

"To Cabrillo! At least as far as you're concerned. As for me, when you're gone, how do you think I'm supposed to go on with my life?"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"The hell you are!" Starsky was now shouting and his face turned red in anger.

"No. I'm not. Because I'm gonna talk to her some more and get to the bottom of this."

"What shirt size are you?"

"Huh?"

"For the straitjacket!"

Starsky smashed his beer can on the table and headed for the door. Hutch ran after him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"No... Starsk... Please... stay." The last words were nothing more than a whisper.

"Let's eat and then we'll talk calmly about it, OK?"

Starsky was never able to resist his friend when he was begging with that tender tone and his puppy eyes. He suddenly remembered the day Hutch was lying in his arms, fighting the drug, trying to cope with the craving for more,… with his soul bleeding all over Starsky's heart.

He sighed, turned around and put a hand on Hutch's chest.

"I only hope this is worth it, Buddy."

"So do I."

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At the end of dinner, Hutch did the dishes while Starsky was taking a shower. He had agreed to spend the night and talk some more about this more-than-unusual situation.

When Starsky came back to the living room, with nothing but a towel around his waist, Hutch couldn't help but smile.

"No wonder she has a crush on you. You still look in great shape after all these years."

"Are you kidding?"

"Hey, let's face reality, we aren't getting any younger. After forty, they say..."

"...that men are even more attractive than rookies, period!"

Hutch laughed at that. "Yeah, partner, we are still in good shape, thank God for the forties."

He headed for the shower before his friend had the chance to issue another of his sarcastic remarks about his diet.

The shower cabin was steamy and hot and he started to relax as soon as the hot water flew on his shoulders and down his back.

He stood there, motionless, in the faint hope the hot water would somehow refresh his ideas.

" _What if I'm developing some unusual form of madness and the doctor didn't find out."_ He thought to himself.

 _No you're not mad, Hutch,  
how many times do I have to tell you, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD?_

"NOOOO!"

Starsky rushed to the bathroom as he heard Hutch's scream.

"What's the matter? Are you hurt?"

Hutch had turned off the tap. His whole body was shaking.

"Starsk, what's happening to me?"

"What happened? … Are you hurt? … Talk to me, Buddy!"

Starsky opened the shower cabin door and tried to find a bleeding injury on his body. The fact that his blond partner was naked didn't bother him. As far as he was concerned, the scream he heard was the sign that there was something very wrong with Hutch. "HUTCH! ARE YOU HURT?" he shouted at last, having found no sign of injury.

"No." Hutch whispered. "I... she's here."

"Who?"

"Marie."

"Marie? Where?" Starsky couldn't help looking around, even if he knew there was no one else with him apart from his shaken friend.

"Here, with me... _Within_ me. I … thought after you gave me the present, it would be over; I mean, she told me about it and she was right. But... I don't know anymore, Starsky. Here I was, enjoying the hot water and telling myself this whole story could be nothing more than an effect of my imagination after all, and all of a sudden,... there she was again... Starsky, please... help me."

Hutch grabbed the shower so tightly to prevent his hands from shaking that his knuckles turned white.

"C'mon, get out of there, I don't really think this is a good place to talk about it."

"Why?"

"Well, first of all, because you're all wet and … naked. I don't mind, I've seen you naked before, but I guess we would be more comfortable in the couch, with a beer... or a coffee. C'mon, you big silly babe!"

"I'm no babe."

"To me, right now, you're acting like one! C'mon, get out of the shower. And get dressed. I'll make up some coffee."

Starsky handed his friend a big towel. Hutch's eyes were fixed on the floor; his mind was lost in a never ending sequence of wild thoughts where he would ask himself the same questions over and over again and never able to find the beginning of an answer.

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(to be continued)


	16. Chapter 16

_**Hi Everyone,**_  
 _ **Thanks to all of you who visited this universe, who reviewed, who sent PM, who put it in follow-up or favorite.**_  
 _ **I hope you'll enjoy the second half of the ride. Yes, about half of the chapters have been posted so far!  
I hope you'll enjoy this next instalment.  
Love,  
Lyxie**_

* * *

When Hutch joined him, Starsky handed him a large mug of coffee.

"Here, I've put two lumps of sugar, you need some more energy."

"Thanks." Hutch seized the cup and sat on the couch. Starsky sat on the coffee table in front of him.

Hutch didn't have the courage to argue about the quantity of sugar Starsky had put in his mug. He started to drink very slowly, as if consciously savoring each sip meant he was taking hold of his own reality. He concentrated on the sensation of the hot liquid flowing down his throat and into his stomach. He forced his thoughts to follow the same route, to prevent them wandering anywhere else than the physical sensation.

 _Hutch, you gotta know by now I'm telling you the truth.  
Stop pretending I'm not here!_

"Oh shit!"

"What?"

"She's here."

Starsky was feeling more than concerned about Hutch's behavior, but, as he had no explanation about how Hutch could have guessed about the birthday gift, he accepted the possibility that his friend might have told him the truth, or at least, some kind of truth for which he didn't have a proper name.

"Okay. Stay calm. Look at me, Hutch. C'mon, look at me, pal!" he said, taking Hutch's face in his hands and forcing him to look at him in the eyes. "What does she say?"

"She... she says..." Hutch's voice ended in a contained sob and Starsky saw one tear rolling down his cheek.

 _Don't do that, please, I need you strong.  
Please, trust me._

"She wants me to help her. Geez, Starsk, I thought if I answered her, she would go away. I thought... if I gave in, it would pass through me, my mind would get a grip and all this would seem like a bad dream."

"'Okay, Buddy. Try to relax. I'm here. There, shhh... calm down." Starsky kept holding Hutch's face in his hands until he felt his friend stopped shaking.

"Why me?" Hutch complained.

"Hey, why you, indeed? Why not me?"

 _I wish I could have chosen._

Hutch frowned.

"She would have picked you if she'd had a choice."

"She told you that?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Okay. So you're talking to her right now?"

"I'm not _talking_ to her. I don't wanna talk to her, Starsk. I want my life back, normal, as it was before."

"Normal? Are you sure? … Just kidding." Starsky finally said , smiling at his friend. "Whatever, she was right about the bird."

Hutch closed his eyes and another tear drop ran down his cheek. Starsky discretely wiped it away tenderly with his thumb and immediately pulled away from him and sat in the couch next to Hutch.

"What do you think she wants?"

"I don't know. She ..." Hutch opened his eyes and turned to face his partner. "You _are_ indeed buying this, aren't you?"

"All I want is to help you. If there is anything I can do, you know you can count on me. I'll follow you, even in your wildest adventures."

 _I knew you would._

Hutch bit his lower lip as he heard her reaction.

 _Then why didn't you pick HIM instead of me?_

 _I told you, it just happened… Talk to him now._

"She wants me to talk to you."

"Sure. I'm ready."

Hutch smiled – _of course you are, Buddy, you're always ready for the inexplicable, that's one of the reason I love you, no matter I don't tell you sometimes_ – and took another sip of his coffee.

Starsky was fidgeting, as a child in front of the family house chimney, waiting for Santa Claus to appear and bring him lots of presents.

"Sounds a bit like science-fiction, welcome to Weird-land."

"Starsky, you promised!"

"Sorry, not making fun at you, but... okay… I'm listening."

"Don't laugh; it could've happened to you!"

"I wish it had. She sounds like an interesting charac... person."

"You're jealous."

 _Figures!_

Hutch smiled at that.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because she knows you very well too."

"With all due respect, may I say that you picked yourself another interesting one, Blondie. You're collecting them."

 _I wasn't on a man hunt, if that's what he means.  
Merely looking for help._

 _I know._

 _Then you believe me?_

 _I have to. Otherwise, I'll put a bullet in my head.  
Just promise me one thing._

 _Anything._

 _Promise me you'll disappear when this is all over.  
When you get the help you need._

 _I... promise._

Starsky noticed that Hutch was smiling to himself and guessed he was having a inner conversation with Marie.

"Just let me know if you two want to be left alone."

"Sorry, Buddy. She's just telling me she _will_ go away after we have helped her."

"Oh, I see. Making promises now? Er... can she hear me too?"

"Yes."

"But she isn't in my head though."

"She can hear you in mine, because I hear you."

"Right. Sounds logical. So what's the deal now?"

 _I need you to help me with my story._

"She needs us to help her finish her story."

"Huh?"

 _If I write the end, you'll find the solution to your murder case._

"She experienced a writer's block. She started to write about the murders but now, she's stuck and she needs us."

"But... correct me if I'm wrong, if she created the killer, she could tell us who he is."

 _I thought of a series of murder, but I never created the killer's profile._

"She has no idea who the killer is."

"Swell! How are we supposed to find him then?"

 _I just have a feeling, like I know him._

 _What? You know him?_

 _That's a hunch I have._

 _Have you been threatened in any way?_

 _No._

"Where are you, Blondie?"

"Hold on a sec, I'm talking to her."

"Sure. Take your time." Starsky pulled a face.

"Sorry, it's already difficult as it is. Gimme a minute, will ya?"

 _Sorry. You said you might know who the killer is.  
Could he be someone you know?_

 _I don't know.  
Sometimes I swear I can see his face in my dreams._

 _In your dreams?  
Hey, you told me we could work the other way round._

 _What do you mean?_

 _You said I could visit you in your dreams, remember?_

 _Yeah, that was before I told you I was the author._

 _So. What's the difference? I could try.  
And perhaps I'll recognize the man._

"Hey, I'm feeling like the third wheel here."

"Starsky, shut up."

 _Don't be rude, he's your best friend._

"Sorry, Starsk."

"Finished with her yet?"

"Not just yet. I may have found a way to progress."

"Great!" Starsky stood. "I'll get a beer."

 _Sorry 'bout that. Where was I?_

 _My dreams._

 _Oh yeah, why don't I try to connect with you when you sleep?  
The only problem is I don't know how to do that._

 _I need to get in touch with you first when I'm preparing for the night.  
Then we can meet when I'm asleep._

 _How do you explain this?_

 _I can't._

 _But when you get in touch with me, I don't sleep._

 _True. Let's do this anyway._

 _It's worth a try._

 _It's set. Let's meet tonight._

 _Okay. Hey, I hope it'll work._

 _I hope so too._

Hutch was smiling to himself again.

"Seems she got you hooked, Buddy."

"It's not what you think."

"Oh no?" Starsky raised his head and started to talk to the ceiling. "Listen, girl, whoever you are, you'd better help us real fast, because if you hurt my Buddy here, I'll find you, where ever you are and you could regret the little game you pulled on my Hutch."

 _I swear I won't hurt him, or you._

"She doesn't mean any harm, to either one of us, Starsk."

Starsky kept his head raised. "Good. Consider yourself warned, Mary!"

 _It's Marie._

"Her name is Marie, Starsk, not Mary."

"What the hell! I'll say again, so you understand this loud and clear, read my lips, don't you dare hurt Hutch, got it, MA-RI-E?"

Hutch's face suddenly went pale and his breathing became uneven. Starsky's heart skipped a beat.

"What's wrong?"

"Her... her name." Hutch could barely talk.

"What's with her name? I said it right this time!"

"Marie! Don't you see?"

"See what, Blondie? Hey, you scare me here, you look like you're gonna collapse."

"MARIE. Open your eyes, Godammit!"

Starsky felt his friend's body shake like never before.

 _Oh no. Please... this can't be._ Hutch mumbled as he rushed to the counter where he had left a copy of the chart they had drawn with all the girls' details. He held it with both hands in front of his eyes and stared at it for a long moment before giving it to Starsky.

"Take a look!"

Starsky read the chart. He knew every detail of it by now but failed to find what had made Hutch so excited for the last couple of minutes.

"I don't-"

"The names, Starsk, look at the four girls' names!"

"What's the matter with their names?"

"Read them again!"

Starsky knew it was no use to argue with his partner when he was bubbling over. He sighed and complied.

"Okay, we have Marcie Brown, Abby Spencer, Roxy..."

"The first names, Starsk, LOOK AT THE FIRST NAMES!"

Starsky read again, slower this time.

"Marcy, Abby, Roxy, Irene."

Then it seemed to trigger something in his mind. By the look on his face, Hutch understood his friend had the same idea.

"Oh my God! Could this be true?" Starsky whispered.

"I don't know, pal, but if it is, we'd better move our butts and put an end to this nightmare. Because now, we know one little detail about the next victim."

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It had taken them a few long minutes to be sure that what was written on the paper contained a clue that had been eluding them for so long, especially Hutch, who had been the first one to know Marie's name.

Hutch's thoughts were in such a state of shock that he lost the connection with Marie. Starsky remained calm, despite the discovery they had just made. Hutch barely slept that night and several times, he felt the urge to get up and walk in the apartment. He tried not to wake his partner, and was reassured only when he saw him peacefully snoring on the couch, his face totally relaxed. He envied Starsky at that moment, for being able to forget about the tension and enjoy a full undisturbed night's sleep, meanwhile _he_ was pacing like a mad lion in the labyrinth of his messed up reasoning.

He wondered indeed why she had contacted him instead of Starsky, who was usually the one to go for extravagant experiments or read books which Hutch despised, like " _365 ways to convince your boss that you're the best and get a raise._ "

At dawn, Hutch finally fell asleep and didn't wake up until he felt a gentle pressure on his left shoulder. He didn't want to open his eyes immediately and lose the thought of Marie. He dreamed she was there, at last, next to him and that he would be able to protect her for good. He opened his eyes. And there she was! A lovely brunette, sitting on his bedside, smiling at him so tenderly. Her long curly hair was freely floating on her shoulders. There was something so special about her eyes, an expression of serenity and gratitude. He smiled back.

 _What took you so long?_ He whispered.

" _Sorry, I did my best."_

" _I shouldn't have doubted you, I'm sorry."_

" _It's OK."_

" _I will help you, promise. Where shall I start?"_

" _You could start with getting dressed, it's almost 8. We've got a job to do."_

" _Yeah... I know..."_

" _I mean NOW."_

" _I wish I could stay here with you."_

" _That's very sweet, but I already said you're not my type."_

" _But... you chose me."_

" _'Course, who else?"_

" _So?"_

" _So, you're still not my type. Get up!"_

" _Hmmm, wanna stay..."_

" _Right now, move it!"_

He felt his arm being pulled and his body sliding on the sheets.

"Hey! Why are you doing?"

"You need to snap of it!"

Hutch opened his eyes and saw Starsky smiling at him mockingly.

"Told ya. You're not my type, Buddy!"

Hutch suddenly felt like an idiot. It was the first time he was dreaming about Marie. It felt so real that it took him a little while to get a hold on the stark reality around him.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Is she pretty at least?"

"Huh?... er... yeah. Actually she is."

Starsky was staring at his partner. Hutch gazed back.

"It's weird that I dreamed about her, because all she told me is she was a brunette, but I never saw her for real... Listen to me! How could I have seen her anyway? Oh man, what the hell has happened to our lives?"

"You tell me, Buddy, but whatever it is, what we found last night could help us find out more about our suspect."

"Starsk, she also told me that, even though she hadn't really created the killer's character, she had a feeling she knew him somehow."

"Then perhaps she could describe him."

"I just told you she hasn't created his profile. How could she describe him?"

"She could at least describe her feelings; maybe just an image, a voice, whatever. It's better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll ask her."

"But not now, partner. Duty calls." Starsky was already dressed, and heading for the door.

"I'm right behind you."

"You'd better be, pal."

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"Minnie, can I talk to you for a second?"

Minnie was typing her report about a theft which had occurred two days ago. Though she was a rookie patrol officer, she enjoyed it more than anyone would have expected. She typed all her reports with the utmost precision, just like she looked for tiny details in the archives when Hutch, or more often Starsky, asked, most of the time the latter in fact. He always used his best charms to convince her to go through all the files and dig out the few ones he and his partner considered to be potential suspects.

Minnie felt that this time was no exception. Starsky was hunting for data and, even though she had quit her job former position, he still relied on her skills from time to time.

"Yes... Starsky?" she pronounced his name very slowly with a big innocent smile on her face.

"Did I tell you that your new uniform suits you perfectly?"

"Yes, Starsky. You did. Each time you needed me to go on a data search."

"Ooh, Minnie. I mean that. I'm really happy you got this new job. You deserve it."

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I need to finish this report before noon." She focused her attention on her notes, next to the typewriter.

"Er... Minnie?"

She looked at him again, elbow on her desk and chin on the palm of her hand. Her stretched lips and mouth closed clearly indicated to the detective she would listen but not comply with his request.

"Yes?"

"I thought that you... I mean..." Starsky didn't know how to tell her what he actually wanted without explaining what was happening to his friend. "This is really important. We may have a few ideas on the brunettes' killer and I need you to help us search for possible suspects."

"And why would I do that?" she replied defiantly.

"Because we think that there's gonna be a new victim soon and we may have an idea on how the killer is choosing his prey."

Minnie dropped her hand and stared at the detective who wasn't using his usual charming technique this time. There was real concern in his eyes.

"All right. Give me the list of criteria you have so far and I'll see what I can do with Corbett."

"But Corbett joined the department only recently, she wouldn't know all the suspects like you do."

"That's why I'm going to do this _with_ her."

Starsky bowed and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Minnie, you're the best."

"Yeah..." she sighed."I've known that since I started working here with you around, guys! Okay, tell me what you have." She took a piece of paper and a pencil.

"Male, age unknown, possibly of Spanish origin, with a good level of education."

"Starsky, do you realize that this description could apply to a very large proportion of men in town?"

"Yeah, don't tell me about it! I know it's pretty thin."

"Anything else?"

"He may have been apprehended for assault. On brunettes."

"Any particular brunette you have in mind?"

"The ones who were killed were between 27 and 29, from 5'7" and 6."

"Thank God I'm smaller." She sighed.

"'I know. But this guy is a maniac. He likes to play with a knife, but not as a weapon, rather as a drawing tool. And the canvas he draws on is the victims' skin. So watch out."

"I'll call you, should I see him around." she winked.

"Please don't make fun about this, Minnie. That's all I've got for now. We'll have more to tell you soon."

"I'll do my best, Starsky." This time, there was no trace of mockery in her voice.

"Thanks."

"Any time."

Starsky went back to his desk. Hutch's hands were joined in front of his mouth and he seemed to listen to something only he was able to hear.

"Hey, is it _her_?" Starsky asked simply.

"No. I was just thinking. As she told me the guy seems familiar to her, I'll try to talk to her tonight and get more details. Where were you?"

"I was trying to convince Minnie to look through some old files for us."

"And she accepted?"

"Yes, what do you think?" Starsky's pride was obvious. But he didn't want to gloat more about it. "Hey, do want me around when you speak to Marie?"

Hutch hesitated, knowing that Starsky was concerned.

"Nah... I'll be all right. I'd prefer to do this on my own."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don't worry Buddy, I know that you always wanna cover my back, but I'm not gonna face bad guys this time, I'm gonna talk to someone who's not even there."

"That's why I think I should be around. You never know, with spirits or ghosts. Could turn out to be a bad one."

"Starsky, she's no spirit. She's...real."

Starsky shrugged his shoulders and headed for the coffee pot.

"Sure! Hey, could be fun if I heard her too!"

 _I don't care, Big Lummox, tonight I'm gonna show up at your place, unannounced. There is no way I'm gonna let you face this on your own. I only have one partner. I treasure him and I don't want any other. So she'd better cooperate or... well, I'll think about it when I get there. So prepare for reinforcements!_

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(to be continued)


	17. Chapter 17

_Please, answer me!_

After Starsky had dropped him home and left, Hutch had eaten very fast and taken a shower even faster. He was now laying on his bed, reciting a different mantra, the one that would relax him and open his mind to every detail of his surroundings. But most of all, to a connection with Marie. He waited, patiently, then less patiently, for her to answer. But this time, there was no reply.

 _Could it be she is the only one able to restore the connection? Is she mad because I cut the link when we found the link between the dead girls and her name? And why is there a link anyway? Is she the next victim? Nah... the next one's name should begin with an "E". Then what?_

 _Marie, talk to me. I'm asking you._

He breathed deeply, trying to slow down the whirlwind of emotions going through his heart. For the first time, he missed her, and could not explain why. He tried to remember all the states of mind that he had gone through since this had all begun: the sensation of becoming mad, the fear of having awakened a ghost, the panic to discover he might have fallen in love with his partner. Now that he had an answer - even as weird as the one he finally found - he missed talking to her. He was also eager to dig a bit more into this mystery of first letters. He still felt his spine shivering as he thought Marie could play a part in this, and not necessarily a good one.

 _Please, Marie, I'm now begging you, talk to me._

 _I'm here, Hutch._

 _Where have you been?_

It sounded strange to him to ask a question like that, as if he was opening the door and she was standing there on the threshold, after a long absence.

 _I hesitated about coming back._

 _Why?_

 _Because all this is my fault._

 _What is?_

 _The murders!_

 _I imagined them, I started to write about them and I'm not able to undo what I did._

 _I feel like I killed the girls myself._

 _How could I imagine such horrible deaths?_

 _Author's prerogative._

 _It's not funny._

 _I was not trying to make it sound funny. Listen, Marie, you told me you know the guy somehow. Can you tell me more about it?_

 _..._

 _Marie?_

 _Yes. Sorry, I was trying to ... I think I saw him in my dreams._

 _In your dreams?_

 _I should rather say in my nightmares._

 _Have you seen what he looks like?_

 _His face is tanned..._

 _Like he is Spanish?_

 _Yeah, but... he...ooh wait, I think he was wearing a hat._

 _What kind of hat?_

 _Er... a large one._

 _Like a panama?_

 _More like a sombrero._

 _A som-... Do you mean he could be Mexican?_

 _Perhaps. Yeah... now that I think of it, I believe he is._

 _Great! That's already one interesting point to know. Anything else?_

 _..._

 _Marie, are you there?_

 _I'm so tired, Hutch._

 _I know, but you gotta hang on for a little while, I need you to tell me more about this guy. Because he is gonna kill another girl and we gotta stop him._

 _I'm so sorry, Hutch. I didn't mean all this to happen._

 _I just wanted... I had to... Oh geez!_

 _What? What's the matter? Are you hurt?_

 _..._

 _Marie, pleeeeease, talk to me!_

 _..._

 _Trust me, I wanna help you._

 _You're so kind. How can you still talk to me after I killed those girls?_

 _You didn't kill them. That Mexican guy did._

 _But I wrote about this!_

 _And you also said that the story got out of your control. What if it all started in his head even before you started to write this?_

 _This is very sweet from you. But I doubt it._

 _What happened to me, to us, Hutch. How did all this come about?_

 _I don't know, sweetheart, and right now, we gotta stay focused on the here and now. I will not let you down, do you hear me? We'll get to the bottom of this together._

 _..._

 _All right?_

 _Yeah... Thanks, Hutch._

 _Now tell me, do you remember any more detail about this guy?_

 _I have the impression he is strong, he could hurt easily._

 _That's what he did, actually._

 _I mean, his hands are large and powerful._

 _When he grasps something, he doesn't let go easily._

 _I see. Anything else?_

 _His eyes!_

 _He has wicked eyes, like he can see through your mind._

 _Are you sure you haven't met this guy before?_

 _Why do you ask?_

 _Because it sounds to me like you did. The way I feel you react to all this. Like you've been hurt yourself._

 _But he's killing in YOUR universe!_

 _Yes, but the idea originated in YOUR reality._

 _Hutch, this is... I'm lost._

 _I'm here. Don't be afraid._

 _I am scared to death._

 _Because of me, terrible things are happening in your reality_

 _and I don't know how to undo what I've done._

 _You know, Marie, I'm not sure you are responsible for all this._

 _What do you mean?_

 _I can't' explain. Just a hunch. I have a feeling we are dealing with two separate events._

…

 _Marie?_

 _Yeah._

 _What you think?_

 _Hutch, there is something I haven't told you yet._

 _Oh, what's that?_

 _I'm... well, I've been on medication for a while now._

 _What's wrong? Are you sick?_

 _I..._

 _Please, Marie, what's wrong?_

 _I'm depressed. That's all. And these recent nightmares I had are not helping._

 _Do you know that sometimes dreams help us to get rid of stress, or bad memories?_

 _Yeah... perhaps._

 _There must be a reason why you thought about this kind of man, and not, say a black one, for instance._

 _But I don't know any Spanish guys, for crying out loud!_

 _Try to stay calm. He may be just a distant memory you kept hidden somewhere in your head._

 _Yet I can't put my finger on it._

 _Maybe I can help you; it's my turn, right?_

 _Hutch..._

 _Marie, let me, please.  
You told me before that I could visit you in your dreams  
and help you finish your story, right? Why don't we try this?_

 _You mean that?_

 _Of course, I mean it!_

 _When?_

 _I really need some sleep now.  
But I promise I'll try tomorrow, how does that sound?_

 _Sounds good._

 _That's a deal then.  
Try to relax and think about something else until then._

 _How are we gonna know we're ready?  
I mean … connected?_

 _You never had a problem contacting me before, have you?_

 _No._

 _So? You get in touch, we talk a little, you relax and I "visit you in our dreams", like you said._

 _Do you think this is gonna work?_

 _We will only know when we try._

 _Okay. Anything to get to the bottom of this nightmare._

 _You're not alone anymore, Marie._

 _I wanted so much to do something special with my life!_

 _Hey, look what you did!_

 _Yeah, look what I did, I created a disaster!_

 _No. You contacted me.  
I don't know why or how it happened.  
But I'm glad it did._

 _Are you sure?_

 _Yeah. Can't explain this more than you do._

 _Hutch?_

 _Yes._

 _Thanks._

 _For what?_

 _For... being so kind to me._

 _You're welcome, Sweetheart.  
Try and get some sleep now._

 _Okay._

 _Sweet dreams._

 _I don't wanna dream._

 _Don't worry.  
Now you told me a bit more about you, it's gonna get better._

 _How can you be so sure?_

 _Told you, a hunch. Rest now._

 _Good night, Hutch._

 _Good night, Marie._

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a moment, with a wide expression of contentment on his face, then turned on his side, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

 _I'll miss you._

He did not hear that.

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By the time Starsky pulled over in front of Metro, Hutch had reported the conversation he had had with Marie the night before. Starsky didn't react during their journey to the Police station. He gave him a glance from time to time and saw the familiar expression on his friend's face. The light in his eyes, the way he was sighing when pronouncing certain words.

 _Don't tell me you're falling in love with her, Blondie! That'd be the cherry on the cake! She's not real. Boy, you're one of a kind, always falling for the wrong one. Let's only hope your nightly verbal intercourse will get us somewhere._

That same day, the Feds tried to take the case from Dobey's finest detectives; he shouted at them with such a fury that they retreated faster than lightning. A bit later, when he called his men into his office, Hutch and Starsky had the distinct impression that they would be on the receiving end of the remains of his rage.

"Don't tell me that you haven't found anything yet!" the black man shouted again. His voice didn't sound kinder than with the Feds.

"Actually, we have." Hutch replied in a hurry, before his partner even opened his mouth.

"Glad too hear that. What do you have?"

"Well...er... no name yet... but I feel we're close to something."

"I didn't ask you where you are, but WHAT you have, is there any part of the question you didn't understand, Hutchinson?"

"No Sir."

"So answer the damn question!"

"He meant that we have established the profile of the killer. And we are waiting for a call from an informant very soon, perhaps tonight. We might get a more precise description of the suspect." Starsky intervened. Hutch sent his partner a message of irritation with his eyes, but his body was telling Starsky he felt relieved. _Thank God I told Starsk about all this!_

"The Bureau hasn't got any further than you, boys, so you better get to it and nail that lunatic before my rest of my hair grows gray.

"That would be a pity, Sir." Starsky tried to sound familiar. It didn't work.

"Get the hell outa here, both of you, and do whatever you're supposed to do!"

"Yes, Sir!" Starsky snapped his heels, grabbed Hutch's sleeve, dragged him out and closed the door without looking back. But if he had, he'd have seen Dobey, head leaning on his hands, and heard a long sigh.

Sitting back at their desk, Hutch stared at his partner in front of him for a long while. Starsky felt the warmth of his partner's gaze and raised his eyes.

"What!"

"What was that crap about getting a precise description of the killer?"

"You're gonna talk some more with Marie tonight, right?"

"Er... yes, but-"

"See? I'm sure she's gonna tell you something useful."

"How do you know that?"

"Just a hunch." Starsky said, giving his friend a cheerful wink. "So, you are gonna talk to her tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll be there with you."

"But... you can't hear her!"

"I don't care. You'll speak aloud and I'll take notes."

"Starsky..."

"And this is non negotiable. We're partners, right? We go through the investigation together, and I consider THIS as a part of the investigation, so I'm on it with you, whether you like it or not."

Hutch didn't reply. It was no use. His partner could be more stubborn than a mule.

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"What time is she supposed to show up?"

Hutch gave his partner an amused look because of the way the question had been phrased.

"She can show up any time. Starsk, this is not a railway station! Be patient. It's only eleven thirty."

"It's just that..."

"You're having second thoughts about it?"

"Nah... Told ya, I'll stick with ya... it's just that ... I'm hungry."

"Again? After the pizza, and the chocolate cake and the crackers you ate after your second root beer?"

"Can't help it. I feel like we're on a stakeout and this always makes me starving. I hate to wait and do nothing."

"Be patient, Starsk, she'll come."

"How can you be so sure?"

"It's-"

"Just a hunch, I know!"

"It's not that. I feel she needs me."

"Oh."

Starsky was fidgeting on the wicker chair which he had dragged in Hutch's bedroom, trying to make himself comfortable. He had decided not to share Hutch's bed during his encounter with Marie. Hutch had suggested that he sit on the bed. They had shared it on several occasions, when one of them was watching over the other through sickness or pain. But this time, Starsky had argued he would never share with two people, especially when Hutch was on a date, even as weird as this one.

"This whole situation is so strange." Starsky resumed the argument they had before about sharing the bed. "I mean, look at me. Here I am, waiting for you to talk and possibly help a woman we don't know scrap about, who pretends she can help us find a dangerous criminal, and we haven't even seen her; actually, there is no chance we will ever see her! This is so..."

"Starsky, let me remind you that YOU were the one who insisted on being here."

"Sure. But I still have the right to say it's crazy."

"Look who's ta-"

Hutch suddenly stopped talking. He closed his eyes for a moment and started to smile.

"Is she here?" Starsky whispered very low.

Hutch nodded.

 _I'm sorry I'm late._

 _Don't worry. Are you OK?_

 _Sure!_

 _Marie? What's wrong? I feel you're not all right._

 _I'm... OK, I guess it's no point in hiding it from you, since you seem to feel what I feel._

 _I just had another appointment with my shrink and I thought I should stop talking to you._

 _You go to a shrink? What for?_

 _I've been depressed for years, Hutch; I guess that's why I write stories._

 _My shrink told me this is my way of preserving my sanity,_

 _to put all my anger and fear into the characters._

 _Great! That's why it's so dramatic. Marie, is it getting worse?_

"Hey, what's she saying?" Starsky asked, pulling Hutch's shirt. "Don't leave me out."

"She's..."

 _You can tell him, Hutch. I don't mind._

"She's going through some kind of depression and writing helps her to stay afloat."

"Oh. I see. What about the killer?"

"I haven't asked her yet."

"What are you waiting for? Ask the lady!"

 _He is always so impatient._

 _Of course. Now, tell me, Marie, do you know how we can identify the killer?_

 _No, I'm sorry, Hutch._

 _But you gotta have an idea. You started all this._

 _I know, but I guess it was a violent feeling which I wanted to use this man to exorcise._

 _You mean, like a memory?_

 _Yes, I think so. But I can't remember._

"Hey, what's she saying?" Starsky didn't whisper this time. Being left out of the loop was making him nervous.

"Starsk, it's just not easy to listen to her and repeating everything afterwards."

"You could speak aloud, so that I can hear you at least."

"But you wouldn't hear what she says. Besides, she has a hard time remembering things. So I guess I will have to go into her dream."

"Huh?"

"We talked about this already. If I can help her find the source of her anxiety related to the bad guy, maybe this can help us find a clue here."

"I've heard some incredible stories, but this is ... Can't find the word to describe this! I just can't."

"Then don't. And would you please let us be?"

"Alone with her, you mean?"

"Yes."

" 'Kay."

Starsky crossed him arms on his chest. He started to pout. Hutch smiled and closed his eyes again. He took a few deep breaths and felt his heartbeat slow as he was trying to induce sleep.

 _Don't be afraid. We're gonna do just fine._

 _I like it when you say that._

 _When I say what?_

 _You said "we", like we are a team._

 _We are, aren't we?_

 _Yes, Hutch, we are... I must go to asleep now._

 _Marie? I still don't understand how this works,  
I mean, how can I get into your dream?_

 _The same way I access your reality. Unless..._

 _Unless?_

 _Unless this works the other way 'round._

 _I don't get it._

 _Perhaps YOU are real and I'm just a creation of your mind._

 _I'm not... geez, this is so nerve-wracking that we'll never be able to find a way out._

 _I don't want a way out. I wanna stay with you._

 _Marie..._

 _I can't explain it, Hutch,  
but I've been feeling more secure since I contacted you._

 _Marie, you need to relax and sleep._

 _OK. But I'm afraid._

 _I'm here. Sleep now._

 _Hutch?..._

 _Yes?_

…

 _(mentally whispering) Marie?_

He suddenly felt like he was pulled into space, fast, too fast, so fast that he felt like he was on a loose roller-coaster wagon about to derail from the top of the main curve. His breathing accelerated and his hands grasped the sheets, as he tried to prevent his body from falling into emptiness. His journey didn't last for long. He ended up in an empty street, in front of a red-brick building. He couldn't hear a sound except the cry of a child, sitting on the pavement in front of the building entrance. He approached the child and walked round him slowly. He was now facing a little blonde girl about 8 years of age. She had long curly hair and gorgeous eyes. Her face was wet with tears and she was twisting her hands nervously on her lap. Hutch approached her and dropped to his knees to face her in the eyes. She raised her head to look at him and stopped crying the minute she saw the ocean-blue eyes smiling at her. Hutch extended a hand and touched the little girl's. She squeezed his hand back in hers and smiled too.

"Are you OK?"

" _Yes, I'm better now."_

"Are you alone here? Where are your parents?"

" _My Mom is lost in there." she pointed at the building behind Hutch._

"Lost? Shall I help you find her?"

" _Yes, please."_

Hutch was still holding the girl's hand. They both stood up and entered the building through a revolving door. The moment he walked in the building, he felt something pulling at his hand and found himself alone inside the building. He quickly looked behind him but she was nowhere to be found. _OK, I'm in a dream, this is not real, I shouldn't worry_. Yet, he felt his spine shiver as he heard the same child cry again, but this time, the sound was coming from upstairs.

He climbed the stairs and tried to locate where the cry was coming from. He ended up in a dark room and made out a body sitting on a bed. He walked to the bed. As he approached, the room around him became brighter. Eventually, he saw a woman, staring back at him. She had long curly hair and she was dressed just like the little girl he had just met in the street.

Marie? Is that you?

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(to be continued)


	18. Chapter 18

_**When I first posted this story several years ago, it was daily fresh WIP from this point on. So please show mercy for any weird developments or missing points or errors I might have unintentionally committed.**_

 _ **As always, still hungry for reviews, critics, suggestions, feed-back of any kind.**  
 **Love,**  
 **Lyxie**  
_

* * *

 _Hello Hutch. I'm so relieved you made it._

I still don't understand.

 _Don't try to. Neither do I._

You're a brunette!

 _Yes, told you so._

The little girl downstairs, is she … your sister?

 _She's me._

But she has blond hair.

 _I had blond hair when I was a little girl._

 _I'm sorry if I gave you different answers about my appearance_

 _when you asked earlier. I was... confused._

It's OK. I'm happy to see you now.

 _Me too, Hutch._

That little girl...She was crying.

 _She was scared._

Of what?

 _Of what could have happened to Mom._

What happened, Marie?

 _She was assaulted by a man._

In this building?

 _In a building which resembles this one._

Tell me more.

 _We went to the public library and, after I found what I wanted_

 _she told me to wait for her by the entrance._

 _After a while, as she hadn't come for me, I went all through the library looking for her._

Go on.

Marie's breathing accelerated and the tears began to fall down her cheeks again.

 _I heard her voice. She was moaning._

 _I called out for her. She cried out my name, just once. That's when I saw him._

The man who assaulted her?

 _He was holding her against a wall and was trying to kiss her forcefully._

What did you do?

 _I hit him with my fists as hard as I could._

 _But he slapped me real hard and I fell on the floor._

 _Mom started to shout like hell and he ran away._

 _The police came and asked questions._

 _I was sitting on the floor and crying._

Did they find the man?

 _No._

Did he come back?

 _We never saw him again._

Marie, why do you think I saw this memory?

 _Because I think this is the reason why I've been writing about a killer assaulting brunettes._

 _When he attacked Mom, she was in the Spanish books section,_

 _looking for a book by Garcia Marquez._

Did you see the man's face?

 _Yes._

Marie started to shiver. Hutch sat beside her and took her in his arms. She cried in silence, putting her arms around his waist, her head against his chest. He stroke her hair gently.

Tell me what he looks like.

 _He... he had very dark hair, and a mustache, dark eyes. He was tall, perhaps 6'2"._

 _He had a scar on his forehead, like a curve._

Or a crescent moon?

 _Yes... maybe like that._

Why did he attack only brunettes?

 _I guess because in my mind, he wanted to take revenge because Mom rejected him._

So you imagined a guy who searches for brunettes to avenge his failure

with your Mom. And now I have to find a guy who kills young girls

whose first names match the letters of your own.

Hutch thought and suddenly his eyebrows raised as he understood.

He's following that pattern because he heard your Mom calling you by your name!

 _Oh my God!_

The next girl's name should therefore start with an "E".

 _Hutch, I don't know how to put an end to this!_

You don't have to. I have. I'm the cop in your story, remember?

 _Hutch... I'm... not sure. I mean, what if I'm just a voice in your head and you're having this conversation with yourself, perhaps developing a sixth sense or something like that?_

This is the weirdest idea I've ever heard.

 _That's what your partner would say!_

Yeah, for sure.

 _So, what now?_

If there is any logic in this, he may have kept the same tactic to find his victims.

 _What do you mean?_

Visiting libraries and waiting for his prey to show up.

 _But this is not logical, I imagined a killer._

 _How could this be happening for real in your world?_

 _and be related to a memory from mine?_

Marie, I stopped looking for a logical explanation a while ago. I think it's worth a try.

 _Oh Hutch, what if you're right?_

I will nail the son of a bitch for good.

 _I hope you get there before he finds the next one._

So do I. I gotta go now.

 _I wish you could stay._

I'll always be there... somehow.

 _I'm afraid that if you leave now, I'll never see you again._

I don't know what's gonna happen, Marie.

 _I don't wanna go back to the life I know. This is where I wanna be._

But you do have a life!

 _I'm not sure anymore. What if you're real, and I'm not._

Marie... I...

 _See? You also stopped believing your life is just a fantasy._

I don't know where the truth is. Only that I feel good, here, with you,

as if we've known each other for ever.

 _Hutch, I wish I could go with you. Don't leave me alone._

You're always there.

 _In your mind. I wanna come with you, for real._

What is "real"?

 _I don't know._

I'm afraid.

 _So am I._

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She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She parted from him and put her lips on his. It felt like a caress, the touch of an angel, soft as the skin of a new-born, warm as the first rays of the season, fresh as a cool breeze in summer. They shivered together, so closely entwined that no force could ever separate them. Their kissing became more passionate. He was exploring her, drinking her, offering his own energy. His hands were exploring her body and he felt a delicious release of adrenalin as electricity made his body tremble. She felt he was lost in her and she clung on to him even harder. Whatever the reality they were into, there were together, unconcerned about everything else than the instant, refusing the fact that neither one was there, only because he was in her dream and she was projecting her thought in his head. Their souls were talking to each other, getting drunk on the smell of their skins.

They remained like the frozen statues of lovers for what seemed an eternity. What was eternity anyway, in a world where they had erased all the limits of logical reasoning?

Hutch parted from her and cupped her sweet face in his hands. His eyes had never been so blue, like the widest ocean she would dream of drowning in.

Marie... I think... I've fallen in love with you.

She thought the greatest thing in her life right now was invisible. The love she had never thought possible. To savor the moment even more, she closed her eyes.

 _What if I disappear when you go back to your world?_

This is not gonna happen, I will not allow it!

 _What if I'm just a voice, your conscience, your sixth sense?_

 _My life will be obliterated the minute you open your eyes to your reality again._

Marie, you're so real to me now, I can touch you, I can feel you, I...

 _Don't forget me, Hutch._

Never.

He closed his eyes too.

…

When he opened his eyes again, he saw two big blue eyes like pools, watching him with full of concern.

"Hey!"

Hutch couldn't speak. No sound in his throat, just the echo of a big emptiness in his heart.

"How do you feel?"

Hutch sat up on the bed. He looked like a castaway who has spent years all by himself, got accustomed to it and is suddenly being forced back on an overcrowded ship. He found it painful to breathe normally.

"Here, drink this."

He took the glass of water Starsky handed him. He took one sip. Two. Found it even more difficult to drink. Gave the glass back to Starsky. Stared at his partner. Saw the ocean in his eyes. The big nowhere he wanted to go back to. He needed to get back to Marie.

"Care to tell me what you've seen?"

Hutch's eyes were looking around him without seeing. He felt a hand on his thigh. He felt the warmth of the skin. But this hand was not shivering. He forced himself to focus on the hand, then on the arm, the shoulder, the neck, the curly hair, the face. The face of a man. He focused on the eyes. They were smiling at him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Opened them again. Recognized his partner. Smiled faintly.

"Welcome back, Blondie."

"Er... yeah..."

"How do you feel?"

"Aching all over."

"Where in particular?"

Hutch raised a finger and silently pointed to his heart.

"Oh... I see. Did you talk to her?"

Hutch nodded.

"And?"

Hutch's voice was so faint that Starsky had to lean closer to understand.

"She … she told me what happened to her a long time ago."

Hutch's thoughts took him back to the instant he had been holding her in his arms, comforting her, kissing her, tasting her mouth, stealing the memory of her perfume. Then he jumped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Starsky thought his friend was feeling sick, but soon he heard the water in the shower cabin. He waited on the side of the bed. When his partner emerged ten minutes later, he was buttoning a clean shirt and was wearing a pair of jeans. He sat on the bed next to Starsky and started to put on his shoes.

"Would you please tell me what's happening to you?"

"I know where to search for the next one!"

"You mean the next victim?"

"Yes. C'mon, Starsk!"

Starsky grabbed his partner's arm.

"For your information, it's three o'clock in the morning and I doubt we're gonna find anyone ready to help us before dawn."

Hutch stopped lacing his second shoe, took a look at the clock, and then faced his partner.

"I feel like I've been spending entire days with her."

"I have the same impression, by the look on your face. I was about to wake you up."

"Why?"

"Because you were sweating and shivering and I started to worry, Buddy."

"I'm fine. More than fine. Except..."

"Except?"

Starsky was frowning.

"Except I can't hear her anymore."

"Oh. Well, perhaps she is sleeping now."

"Yeah...perhaps."

"Hey, I'll prepare some coffee! I don't think you'll be able to sleep through what's left of the night anyway."

"No, I'm not."

"That's what I thought. I'll make it strong. I feel we're gonna need a lot of energy for the next couple of hours."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the look in your eyes."

"What about the look in my eyes?"

"You've got the look of the hunter. C'mon, Quatermain!"

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Early morning, less than four hours after he had disconnected from Marie, Hutch literally dragged Starsky out of the apartment. After a rapid visit to the Precinct, he forced his partner to drive to the public library where he thought they would find more clues. It was now Hutch's turn to fidget on his seat and show a level of impatience that Starsky had rarely seen before. Hutch's eyes were burning with an unusual intensity and he was more nervous than ever before, even when he was late for a romantic date – and he hadn't been for a long time.

Hutch had been spending what was left of their short night explaining his theory to Starsky. He explained how Marie's mother had been assaulted in a library, in the Spanish books section. Marie was just a little girl when it happened and she had screamed when she saw her mother being brutalized. The bad guy had run away and vanished.

Hutch was trying to think about it all again. What if this mysterious killer was just a nutcase and seeking revenge on any brunette visiting that part of the library? He could have planned to wait for one to show up, follow her and kill her. This would explain why there wasn't any tangible connection between the girls, other than the color of their hair and their visits to the library. Starsky had argued it was a bit too simple an explanation but Hutch wanted to further investigate that possibility anyway. He wasn't able to explain why it felt relevant to follow that path, after the intensity of what he had shared with Marie during the "dream".

"How can you be so sure we're gonna find anything in _that_ particular library?" Starsky had been driving in silence for most of their journey, but now he felt the urge to express his doubts.

"I know, somehow..."

"You saw it... in you dream?"

"In Marie's dream, you mean?"

"Yeah, in Marie's dream. It sounds so … OK!" Starsky raised a hand in apology. "I know I've told you I'd follow you anywhere, but this starts to exceed my capacity to adsorb something as weird and inexplicable. You gotta admit this is getting more nuts by the hour and you know that I normally have the monopoly on acting crazy. But now, you are …. All right, no more. I'll follow you."

"Thanks, Starsk."

"Hmmm." Starsky's hand grasped the wheel a bit harder and he sighed as softly as he could not to show his partner that the limits of his understanding were about to be reached.

Silence reigned between again. Then Starsky found another detail to discuss.

"What about that note?"

"I don't know. And before you even ask, I don't have any clue on the mark he makes on their chest either. Okay?" Hutch's tone was aggressive. "Can't you drive a bit faster?"

"Yeah, but we are not in pursuit right now and there are a lot of kids on their way to school."

"And there is a young girl whose life is in danger!"

"Knock it off, Blondie. I know what I'm doing. We'll get there at the precise moment they open the doors, OK? Relax."

"Go to hell! I don't wanna relax. A life is at stake, don't you understand?"

"I do, but yours is too. I sure don't want you to be struck by a sudden crisis of amnesia again, know what I mean. If you go on like this, you're gonna have a seizure! Just listen to me, pal, one step at a time, I told you we're in this together, and I do mean _together_ , capice?" Starsky's tone was now so low and calm that Hutch stared at his friend and saw the cold determination in his eyes.

"Sorry." Hutch apologized.

" 's OK."

"I mean it."

"Don't start again, Buddy. I said it's OK... See, here we are, right on time for opening."

Starsky pulled over onto one of the emergency parking places in front of the building.

"Pull the light out and put it on the roof! I don't want a zealous traffic officer to have my car towed away. After all, this is an official mission."

Hutch complied and turned and looked up at the building. Starsky walked around the car and tapped on his partner's arm to lead him to the entrance. But Hutch wasn't moving.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

"Starsk, it's the building."

"Yeah, that's the library you wanted to visit first, so what are you waiting for?"

"No, I mean, it's the building I saw in Marie's dream!"

Starsky looked at his friend and then at the red-brick building in front of them. There were many windows looking on the street. The entrance was a double wooden swing door.

"You've probably been here before."

"I've never been in this library, Starsky."

"Are you sure?" Starsky was frowning, perplexed.

"Starsk, I may not sound like my usual self, but I haven't lost my memory!"

"Don't get upset... Just asking."

"Besides, how come I see this building here if it's a real memory from Marie's life?"

"How would I know? You're the hero of this _show_!"

Hutch couldn't help but grin. They entered the building and Hutch immediately asked the receptionist where they could find the Spanish section.

"Don't you wanna check the list of subscribers first?" Starsky inquired.

"No." Hutch's tone was cold. "I wanna see where it happened first."

"Suits you."

Starsky followed his partner obediently. When Hutch found himself in the area he was searching for, he closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, as if this would bring him in contact with Marie again. But he didn't feel her. He was concentrating on his inner feeling so intensively that he didn't hear his partner walking closer to him, nor did he feel the hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, partner, are you still with me?"

"Er... yes. I thought that I could... er... never mind."

"You tried to _feel_ her?"

"Yes." Hutch admitted softly.

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Let's go and check the files."

"Right."

The information desk was equipped for two persons. Yet only one was present, sitting in front of a computer. The lady who greeted them was a short blonde, wearing thick red-framed glasses. She was wearing a large blouse which failed to hide her advanced stoutness. As she was sitting with her back straight and the lower part of her body was out of sight, Hutch's look focused on her hands. She was wearing several rings with big gemstones on both hands. Her fingers were rather short and fat too and Hutch wondered how she could check through the small cards stuck in large boxes in front of her with great dexterity. She was filing back the cards with an astonishing speed. When she heard someone approaching, she stopped and raised her head to greet the newcomers.

"Good morning, gentlemen, how can I help you?"

They both exhibited their badges.

"Good morning, I'm Detective Hutchinson and this is Detective Starsky. We would like to check the readers' records."

"This is... rather unusual, detectives."

"We are searching for a woman, who probably borrowed Spanish books recently."

"I have a lot of names in here and more over there." She showed the boxes in front of her and pointed to the shelf behind her where long boxes were waiting to be dealt with.

"Don't you have all these filed in your computer?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then I guess you also file the book references and the dates they were taken out and brought back, right?"

"Absolutely." There was a certain pride in her voice. "This helps me to find who is late returning the books in time. I helped design the program when it was first installed, you see?"

"Then it's gonna be a piece of cake." Starsky said with a big charming smile, trying to flatter her ego.

She didn't react to that. Starsky's charms obviously didn't work on her and he tried to hide his disappointment.

"Listen, er... Madelin..." Hutch went on, reading her name tag. "We are searching for a young woman, around 27-30 years old, brunette, first name probably starting with an "E"."

"Wow, is this a joke?" She giggled.

"I'm afraid not, Madelin." Hutch was looking so serious that she stopped laughing.

"It will take some time. When do you need this for?"

"Right now. It's very important and we would appreciate your assistance."

"The point is I've gotta file all these back before noon." She showed the pile in front of her.

"Are these the cards for books which were borrowed lately?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps we could start with these?"

"Er... sure. There are about forty of them. It'll take a few minutes. Why are you searching for this girl? What has she done?"

"Actually, something bad may happen to her."

"Oh."

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(to be continued)


	19. Chapter 19

_**Hey Everyone!**_

 _ **A special thanks to one of my faithful reviewer: Rosey Malone. I'm sorry, Dear, to keep on the edge of your seat. Hang on! I know you're waiting for some hurt/comfort moments. They're coming, I can assure you.  
And a big thanks to those who come and read. Please drop a line or two, that'd be Heaven for me to read what you think, how you feel...  
**_

 _ **Love,  
**_ _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

Madelin checked the first card and started to type the book reference on her keyboard. Hutch admired how fast she could type. As this rate, they would have checked dozens of names in no time and he felt relieved they might find what they were looking for sooner than expected.

"May I suggest you get yourself a coffee in our cafeteria, meanwhile I'll go through all this? No need to stand here, I'll work on it as fast as I can."

"Thanks. How much time do you think it'll take you?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry. It depends on how many books were borrowed and by whom?"

"Er... could you also check these names and tell me which books they borrowed?" Hutch said, pulling a sheet of paper with the names of the four victims.

Madelin took the paper and read it.

"I can do that right now; it's easier than searching for a woman with no name."

She typed the first name.

"Marcie... Brown... Let's see..." She waited for a few seconds and a list of three books appeared on the screen. "She borrowed books on the Spanish Inquisition. She has returned them all."

"Try the next one, please."

"Abby... Spencer... er... she only borrowed one, by Carlos Santino. Oh yes, I remember her, she was looking for a novel taking place during the Spanish conquest in South America. Santino specializes in historical novels and..."

"Did she return it?"

"Yes, she did."

"Could you please try the next one?"

Starsky started pacing in front of the desk.

"Roxy... Gront."

"Grant."

"Sorry, I couldn't read that one."

Starsky chuckled. Dobey was always complaining about his writing. Now it was Hutch's turn.

"She only borrowed one. History of the evolution of Jesuits missions in South America during the sixteenth and seventeenth century. She told me she's writing an essay for an evening class she attends. Quite a remarkable woman, I'd say. She told me she's working as a waitress and attending evening classes because she wants to give Spanish classes. She came with another lady, perhaps her mother; she looked Mexican."

Hutch and Starsky looked at each other in surprise.

"How come you remember so many details about each of them?"

Madelin smiled. "I love to talk with people and see them happy when I find the answer to their request. It's a matter of social communicability, I presume." She smiled at Starsky who had given signs of impatience all along. The brunet detective raised an eyebrow and ended up smiling too, feeling that this lady was exactly the person who'd be able to give the information they needed after all.

"What about the last one?" Hutch asked.

Madelin read the name and typed it just as fast. "Irene Darnovski. Yeah... I spelled it wrong the first time she told me her name. She has a slight foreign accent and I wrote it with an "f". Let' see... Irene... here she is. She was searching for a list of artists and celebrities who immigrated to South America at the dawn of WWII. She is very tall and elegant, you know, like a ballet dancer. She certainly could be one."

"Could have been." Hutch corrected in a low tone.

"What do you mean, _could have been_?"

"I'm afraid she's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. She had a wonderful smile."

"I'm amazed you remember so much about them. So many people must come here every day."

"I've got what you could call a photographic memory. And I love to chat. Exchange with people. You may never know who will cross your path. What about the other three? Why are you looking for them?"

"They... were killed too." Hutch confessed.

"Oh my God! All four of them? What happened?"

Madelin's face turned pale.

"Listen, Madelin. We have to find the woman who borrowed Spanish books, you know, the one with the name starting with an "E"?"

"You mean there is some logic behind all this?"

"I wouldn't call this "logic", but … anyway... could you try and find her, please?"

"I'll get to it right away."

She resumed typing on her keyboard. Her fingers were flying over the keys.

"I'm gonna focus my research on the last months... Spanish books code... initial "E"... there, it should take a moment for the system to retrieve the data."

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"Detectives?" Madelin called.

She heard more than she saw Hutch rushing to her.

"Have you found her?" he asked.

By the look on her face, he didn't have to hear the answer to know that it was a "no show".

"I'm sorry, Detective. I haven't found anyone who could fit the description."

Hutch lowered his eyes and sighed. He suddenly looked depressed again, as he was when he started to wonder about his strange state of mind.

"But it doesn't mean she never came here. She may have looked around without borrowing any book. She may come back."

"Er... yeah... maybe."

Starsky gently tapped on Hutch's shoulder.

"C'mon, we might as well check other places. Maybe she borrowed books in another library."

Hutch didn't react.

"Hey, wake up, partner, we still have a few places to check!"

Starsky gave Madelin a card with the Precinct phone number. Before he had the chance to say a word, she smiled at him.

"I'll call you if I find anything of course, Detective." Madelin said.

"Thanks a lot, Madelin. We appreciate your help." Starsky replied with a smile.

Hutch was standing still, staring at the computer screen, now empty. He looked like he was hypnotized.

"Huuutch!"

"Mmm... what?"

"Move it!"

Hutch followed his partner like a robot.

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"Do you wanna try another one?"

Hutch didn't reply.

"Hey Blondie?"

"What?"

"Do you wanna try another one?" Starsky felt Hutch getting more distant by the hour.

"Another what?"

"Another library, you dummy!"

"No."

"That's what I call a straightforward answer!"

"That's what you get for now."

"Okay. We haven't found the fifth girl here. Perhaps we should try some place else?"

"No!" This time Hutch voice was loud and clear. "I'm sure we'll find her here."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Just-"

"A hunch! I got it. Hey, what about talking to the guys Huggy mentioned. You know, the Spanish graduates?"

"Starsk, I'd like to... talk to Marie again."

Starsky was desperate as he felt more and more rejected from his partner's intimate feelings. They had shared so much in the past, whether they were hurt or happy, drugged, shot at, in pain or with their heads full of dreams.

Only this time, Hutch was deliberately keeping him out. Starsky felt unable to help. Despite all the love and friendship and trust they had built during so many years, he simply felt... useless.

"As you wish, pal. I only hope you're right about all this." he finally conceded.

Hutch realized he had been avoiding his partner's eyes and turned his head, gazing at those deep blue eyes reflecting the pain Starsky couldn't hide anymore.

'Don't worry, I'll be fine." he said, putting a hand on Starsky's shoulder. "And I'm sure she can help us."

Starsky savored the touch of his friend's hand. He felt the warmth. He heard the voice, calm, reassuring.

"If you want to," Hutch went on "You can sleep over tonight."

"I don't wanna intrude." Starsky's voice was a bit more aggressive than he intended.

"You don't. Actually, I'd like you to come... Please?"

Starsky felt a squeeze on his shoulder. _He needs me after all. This means I'm not losing him_.

"Okay, Blondie. I'll stay with you."

"Great!"

"On one condition."

"Which is?"

"I order in our dinner."

"Anything you like."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah, Buddy. I do."

The squeezing on his shoulder made their bond solid again, as before.

At the end of their working day, they drove in silence to Venice.

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"You hardly touched your dinner!"

Starsky was glad to be there with Hutch. He had ordered in Chinese food. Though his partner had eaten a few bites, he had rapidly pushed his plate to the side. Starsky's concern was back again. Suddenly, Hutch stood up.

"I'm gonna take a shower."

" 'Kay. I'll clean up the table in the meantime."

"You don't have to.

"Hey, you know me! Go get your shower and leave it to me!"

Starsky's tone turned into an order.

 _What the hell! He needs to get to the bottom of this and I'll stand by him, no matter what. But I'm telling you, Buddy, I miss my partner, my friend. I don't know where we're going. I don't know how this is gonna end. And most of all, I don't know how things will turn when we nail that killer. I'm not jealous because of Mary. I'm afraid of what may happen to you because of her. You're so deep into this! Just look at you! I feel like you've met the eighth wonder and you let yourself get sucked into this *... this what, by the way? I can't even put a name on it. Please, Blondie, don't lose your head. I can be here anytime, next to you, close to you, and guard your body. But there's nothing I can do to protect your sanity. You gotta do this by yourself. So go get a shower, talk to her one more time...and then... well, we'll see when we reach that point._

Starsky sighed quietly and tried to avoid Hutch's eyes, tried to hide his fear.

"Don't worry, Starsk." Hutch whispered while putting both hands on his partner's shoulders. "I'll be fine."

Starsky tried to smile but he couldn't.

 _Yeah, sure, you'll be fine... in another place where I can't join you if something bad happens. When you leave, I feel like an orphan. And also like a stupid one, covering up for you with Dobey. It's time to let go, pal, time to lead this investigation by the book, our book, not the one she's supposedly writing._

"I'm sure it'll be over soon. She'll tell me something more which will help us finish this.

Hutch leaned and his face was now very close to his friend's. Starsky could feel the warmth of the skin, like their foreheads were about to touch. Which actually happened. Hutch remained still for a few seconds, as if he wanted Starsky to feel what was inside his head.

"I'll get a shower."

"Yeah..."

No more words. A sigh. A smile. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes. A skin connection wasn't needed anymore. Their souls were talking to each other again. Starsky felt a vibrant bubble of relief in his heart. He quickly headed for the kitchen so that Hutch wouldn't see that brief moment of sentimentalism.

 _Look at me! Blondie is having a one-in-a-lifetime romance and I'm the one about to cry! This whole situation is getting contagious._

After Hutch was comfortably installed on his bed and had started to relax, reciting a mantra, Starsky took a shower and when he got back to Hutch's room, his friend was apparently sleeping, with his mouth slightly open, his left hand on his chest and the other hand on his left shoulder.

 _He looks like he's holding her in his arms._

This idea made him smile... and worry at the same time. Because that meant Hutch had gone again where he couldn't follow.

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Hutch was standing in front of the red-brick building. The little girl was nowhere to be found. As a matter of fact, there was no one at all around. No car. No noise. Silent became so oppressive that he started to hyperventilate and forced himself to breathe deeply, trying to calm down.

His lips were tight but he was calling her in his soul so loudly that soon the echo of his own voice became painful too.

... Marie? Where are you?

No response.

... Please, talk to me... answer me... come back to me.

It started to rain. Just a few drops. They fell on his face and rolled down his cheeks like tears.

... Marie, don't you leave me here by myself. I need you.

All he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat pumping hard in his ears. The red building suddenly seemed smaller than the first time he had visited it. And the front door was no longer made of wood. It was dark, heavy, and metallic, more like a prison gate. He walked to the door and noticed there were no handles. He tried to find the mechanism which opened that heavy gate and found none.

His breathing became shallow. He started to sweat. He banged on the door with his fists.

Marie!

He shouted at the top of his voice.

Marie! Let me in! Answer me, please!

 _Hutch..._

The voice was calm, gentle, reassuring, coming from behind him. He startled and turned around. Marie was standing there, in the rain, less than two meters from him, her hair plastered on her smiling face, her hands reaching out for him.

He walked toward her and took her in his arms.

Marie... where have you been?

 _I was here all along, Hutch._

I couldn't see you.

 _I didn't wanna go to sleep... I..._

Hutch caressed her hair gently and he felt she was trembling and clinging on to him more tightly.

What's the matter, sweetheart?

 _I was afraid to discover this was just an illusion._

 _That I could actually be nothing but a fantasy in your mind._

Oh Marie! I'm... scared too. I don't want this to end.

 _Neither do I, Hutch. But I feel my whole existence is escaping me._

That's just because you're a bit depressed. You'll be all right soon.

 _How can you know that?_

Because I won't let anything bad happen to you.

 _Hutch, every moment is slipping through my fingers like sand._

 _My life is getting so thin that in the end, I'll be nothing._

 _Nothing else but a memory in your heart._

No. I won't permit that. I'll save you. I...

 _Hutch, we need to find that fifth girl before it's too late._

Do you know who she is?

 _No. But I... Oh Hutch, this sounds too weird. I... dreamed of her._

You what?

 _I saw her in my dreams._

 _Well, actually, she was nothing more than a silhouette, or a shadow._

You haven't seen her face?

 _No._

Are you sure?

 _No, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!_

Sorry. Calm down.

 _But there was something else. A dog._

A... dog?

 _More like a puppy. A Dalmatian puppy._

 _She was walking in the park with the puppy._

When did you dream about this?

 _This afternoon. I felt so exhausted I took a nap._

 _And when I woke up, I remembered that dream so vividly_

 _that I thought it must be important._

Marie... this also means you do have a life of your own.

Don't you see? I wasn't in that dream.

I still don't understand how this all works, but your existence is as real as mine.

 _Hutch..._

Yes?

 _What will happen to … us?_

I don't know.

 _Where is Starsky right now?_

With me... I mean... in the other room, I guess. Why do you ask? Can't you see him?

 _No. what does he think about all this? About me?_

Is it that important for you to know?

 _It is. Somehow, if he's totally closed to this experience,_

 _he may convince you to let go of me and I'll... vanish for ever._

Oh no, you won't. And he's following me into this adventure.

 _How do you know for sure? Did he tell you?_

No. I... felt it...

 _You two are very good friends, right?_

More than that. Soul mates. He's more than a brother.

I care for him as much as he does for me.

And if one of us is in trouble the other one is always there to help.

That's why I know he won't let me down.

And if he doesn't let me down, he's not letting _you_ down either.

 _I tried to figure out what the killer could look like._

Did you find a detail about him?

 _I thought... of a mustache._

I see. Because you imagined him like that?

Or because the man who attacked your Mom was wearing one?

 _No. It just... popped in my head. You know, like the puppy._

 _Sounds like I'm losing it. All those weird ideas..._

It's OK. Just tell me everything that comes into your mind right now.

 _That's it. Nothing else comes into my mind._

 _It's just those stupid images of a dog and a mustache._

 _I'm... lost._

Don't cry, please.

It started to rain on them. But they didn't notice.

She slowly slipped from his arms. He tried to hold her. But her clothes were wet and she kept slipping away from him until he couldn't hold her anymore. Her image started to fade in front of him. He wanted to walk to her and catch her. His hands met in a void and his fists closed around nothingness.

Marie?

There was no response. Only the echo of her crying all the tears in the world.

He ran in the streets, trying to find her. He was all alone.

Someone pulled his jacket. He turned around. There was no one but the sensation of his jacket being pulled was real.

He thought of Starsky. Surely his friend had felt his discomfort and was trying to wake him up. But this was the real world, the one with Marie in it. He didn't want to go back.

 _Hey, Buddy, wake up!_

No, I wanna stay here. Help her. Let her help me.

Finish what we started.

I'm so cold.

 _You need to snap out of it, Buddy. You're trembling all over._

Why did this happen? It's got to have a purpose. I mean, I'm real and so is she?

What trick is this? She's not an illusion, she has a life, and so have I.

Shit, I need to find a girl with a puppy. It's like trying to find

a needle in a haystack. Starsky is gonna think I lost it for sure this time.

 _C'mon, Buddy. I promise I'd take care of you, now come back to me. Wake up! That's an order, Blondie!_

Hutch opened his eyes. Slowly. Painfully. The faint light hurt his eyes. But the warmth of Starsky's hand on his arm felt good. He tried to speak. And found he couldn't. He tried to sit up in his bed. Too weak. He fell back again on the pillow.

Starsky's look was at once tender, worried and angry.

It was raining heavily outside.

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(to be continued)


	20. Chapter 20

_**Hi Everyone,**_  
 _ **I'd like to thank MaryEllen309: thanks for sticking with the boys, although you told me you're usually not fond of AU. It's a beautiful compliment, I'm so grateful.**_  
 _ **When I read what I've written several years ago, I confess I'm aware of the fact I was posting as I wrote along... My apoligies for any discrepancy you may encounter in this or the following chapters.**_  
 _ **Hope you'll stick with the boys till the end.**_  
 _ **Enjoy this one.**_

 _ **Love to all,**_

 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

The rain was heavier than ever. Starsky could hear it hit the windows. Hutch was staring in front of him. Starsky looked at him, waiting for his friend to say something but no word came out. He could see the body next to him was real and _here_ but the mind was still _there_. He went to the bathroom, came back with a wet towel and gently refreshed Hutch's face, in a motherly attempt to wipe out this strange fever. Hutch didn't move. Starsky didn't speak. As if they both needed a moment to retrieve the other. Starsky stood up again and brought a small glass filled with a clear liquid.

"Here, drink this."

Hutch's movements were mechanical. He took the glass without questioning, drank it in one gulp, and grinned a little when the liquid burned his way down his throat.

"Feeling better?"

Hutch nodded.

 _Talk about being minimalist, Pal! At least, you know where you are._

"Why don't you try and get some sleep now? _Alone_ , this time, okay?"

Hutch smiled.

 _Good. You know I'm here too._

Starsky made him comfortable, pulled a blanket over his chest and switched off the light on the night table.

"Don't." Hutch's voice was nothing but a faint whisper.

"You prefer me to leave it on?"

"Yes."

" 'Kay. Sleep now."

Hutch closed his eyes. Starsky watched and waited till he was sure his partner was peacefully snoring.

 _Where have you been, Buddy? What have you seen? What did she tell you? I hope you tell me in the morning._

Soon they were both sleeping. The rain kept hitting the windows, like dozens of fingers clicking on a giant keyboard.

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Starsky woke up when he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He opened his eyes, rubbed his face with his hands and looked at the empty bed next to him. He went to the kitchen to prepare coffee and had the pleasant surprise to see the breakfast table was already set for two. A coffee pot. Brown bread. Lemon jelly. Fresh fruit.

 _Sorry, Buddy, I didn't hear you wake up and prepare all this. Geez, I should have heard, I should have been there, awake, to welcome you back to me. Look at this! You haven't lost the touch for healthy breakfast, that's for sure. As for lemon jelly, if you think I'm gonna try that..._

Starsky was still smiling to himself when Hutch joined him, barefoot.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Huh? Nothin'. Welcome to the real world!"

Hutch didn't reply and went on drying his hair with a small towel. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a white shirt.

"You wanna talk about it?" Starsky gently questioned.

"You mean... Marie?"

"No, about asking Dobey for a substantial raise for being the brightest cops in town! Of course, I mean _Marie_!"

Hutch's face was totally relaxed, as if all the recent tension has disappeared. He poured coffee into both cups and let Starsky add his usual scandalous dose of sugar.

"You know, Starsk, I'm convinced the best way to get that killer is to find the fifth girl before he does."

"So you do have new clues, right?"

"Perhaps." Hutch's tone was elusive.

"Yes or no? Hey, don't make me beg for more information! I've been patient enough already, don't you think?"

"We need to visit pet shops or dog breeders"

"Huh?"

Starsky thought for a moment that Hutch was joking. Or that he had lost it for good. But Hutch looked serious, even if he was trying not to smile openly.

"We need to look for anyone who recently adopted a Dalmatian puppy."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm serious."

"What does a Dalmatian have to do with anything? And why am I asking that question in the first place?"

Hutch stared at his coffee, as if the answer was lying in the bottom of his cup. Starsky didn't insist. Somehow the promise he had made to himself to trust Hutch's instincts to the end made him refrain from starting a new argument about logic. Simply because logic was the last thing to find in this whole situation.

Hutch finally looked at his partner and saw the conclusion Starsky had reached. It was all there, glowing in his eyes, on his face, in the weak smile on his lips.

They had both reached a point of no return. Hutch couldn't let go of her. Starsky couldn't let go of Hutch. Neither one could let go of the investigation. It was about much more than preserving their bond or sanity. Yet no words could easily explain the true meaning of what they were going through.

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The sky had been dark all day as never before. It was still raining heavily when they left the police station. It seemed as if the rain would never stop, as if Heaven had suddenly decided to curse the Earth with another biblical flood. Only this time, no one was building an ark; no one was expecting the worst. No one, except Starsky. Day after day, he was preparing himself to collect a broken Hutch, a lost Hutch, a drowning Hutch, sailing between realities with more ease each day. Every time they had a briefing with their Captain about the Brunettes case, Hutch kept silent most of the time, answering in monosyllables while Starsky did all he could to hide the real source of the very slow progress they were making.

The detectives hadn't found the time to dig more into the puppy idea. And when Starsky had suggested asking Huggy about the graduates or to consult Esteban again, Hutch had simply brushed the idea away with his hand, without uttering a single word. But when Starsky invited him for a late beer, he followed without a hesitation. In Starsky's mind, it seemed the only solution he had left to keep an eye on his partner. Each day, he had to adapt and face a new man, one he didn't recognize, even one he didn't know at all. However, his heart was obsessed by this one and only idea: to save Hutch.

One again, the journey home at the end of the day was made in silence. Hutch was staring in front of him and from time to time, his lips stretched in a very faint smile. When they reached Starsky's place, Hutch stepped out of the car, followed his partner like an automaton and once inside, stood in the living room, smiling, his eyes closed.

"Hey, you're all right?"

Starsky's voice was now empty of any anger or concern. He wanted Hutch to feel as comfortable and relaxed as possible.

"Mmmm..."

"Penny for them?""

Hutch didn't open his eyes.

"Yeah..." He said quietly.

"Would you care to share some, please? I feel kinda lonely in here."

Hutch opened his eyes, in a slow movement, smiled; only this time, his smile was entirely dedicated to Starsky.

"She's here... with me. I can hear her, Starsk. She needs to tell me more. And I'm not dreaming!"

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"Great! You're back! She's here! I'm lost! How come she can now pop up into your mind in broad daylight?"

"Starsk, it's almost eight in the evening."

"Don't change the subject, smart ass!"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, that's right. You'd better be sorry for dragging me into this... this madness of yours. You'd better be sorry for leaving me out of it and making me feel like I don't belong in your universe. You'd better be sorry for..."

Hutch walked to his friend and, very unexpectedly, took him in his arms. He could feel Starsky was shivering with anger and frustration and he held him even tighter for a long moment. When he felt his friend relax a little, he let go of him and looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Starsk. I didn't imagine this whole situation would be so hard on you. I... I don't know what really happened but I'm now certain Marie is the key to our investigation."

"Yeah. Sure." Starsky's tone was anything but nice and friendly.

"Thank you."

"For what?" The tone was brutal but Hutch kept on talking just as softly.

"For sticking with me. For being there and not letting me make an asshole of myself. For..." Hutch searched for the proper word to use. "For preventing me from losing myself in this... addiction. Because I realize it sounds more like an addiction every day. I know what it is, Starsk. I never forgot, you know. Sometimes I even feel like the current situation is even more dangerous than taking a bullet."

Starsky raised his head. He too remembered the long hard road they traveled together when Hutch was trying to get rid of the snow. Hutch felt his friend's fear and tried to sound as convincing as he could.

"I got rid of it because and thanks to you, Starsk. I owe you my sanity, my survival, my life! Today, the situation is different. I just feel that I've got to go the whole way through this. And I'm thankful you didn't let me down."

Starsky's face was beginning to relax and he looked back at Hutch with the same expression he had when he once told him - a lifetime ago - Gillian had been killed because of her way of life and her decision.

"What will happen when the case is over?" Starsky asked.

"I don't know, Buddy. And that's the only answer I can give you right now. I honestly don't know."

" 'Kay. Let's talk to Marie then. See what she can tell us."

Hutch giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You said "us"." Hutch replied with a big smile on his face.

"So?"

"As if she was talking to you too. I find this funny. You're getting involved into this more than I could have imagined."

"As if I ever had the choice!" Starsky said in a whisper. "Now, let's get to it. Can you hear her now?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean _sort of_?"

"I told you she's here. But she hasn't spoken yet."

"So talk to her. Ask her... I don't know... do your thing!"

Hutch laughed again for a few seconds, then headed for the couch and tried to relax.

"Don't you wanna try the bed, you'd be more comfortable."

But Hutch was already listening to Marie.

Marie?

 _..._

Marie? I know you're there.

 _..._

Marie! Answer me, please!

 _Hutch, I think... I ... I came to say goodbye._

What? What happened?

…

Marie? You gotta tell me what's wrong.

 _I don't wanna talk to you anymore._

 _My doctor said I'll be better if I don't._

You went to a doctor?

 _A shrink._

What for?

 _Because I think I'm going mad._

No you're not. You are...

 _Say it!_

I can't find the word.

 _I'm losing it, Hutch._

Why do you say that?

 _Because I keep having these weird dreams about what's gonna happen._

 _Because I feel like my whole existence may just be nothing but a dream._

 _Because I..._

Marie. Calm down. Your life is not a dream. We proved to each other

that we both have a genuine existence.

 _I'm not sure anymore, Hutch._

 _And speaking with you is hurting me too much._

Marie, don't be scared. I told you I'll be there for you.

Tell me about your dreams.

 _So you're still willing to go on?_

Told you! I'm hard to get rid of once I'm hooked.

Please Marie, tell me more about your dreams.

 _I saw the man again._

The one with the big hat and the mustache?

 _Yes. He was younger. I saw him in a little house with a woman._

 _I think_ _she was his mother._

 _They were waiting for his father, and they were decorating_ _the Christmas tree._

Go on.

 _Just before midnight, the mother got a call from her husband._

 _He called to tell her he was leaving her and that he didn't wanna see_

 _her or the boy again_.

Just before Christmas' eve?

 _Yes. She started to cry and shout and she pulled the tree to the ground and_

 _smashed every decoration under her feet._

Where was the boy at the moment?

 _He was staring at her, but he didn't cry. He made fists and started to hit the tree too._

 _And then the clock on the chimney rang midnight. He snatched the clock and_

 _threw it on the ground. After he'd stamped on it for a long time with rage,_

 _he ran away from the house. He ran to a park._

 _There were a lot of Christmas decorations everywhere. He was angry._

 _He looked at the sky and promised that he would never believe in Christmas_

 _nor any fairy tales again._

Marie, do you think this guy is our killer?

 _Yes, but I can't tell you how I know._

Perhaps because your Muse is visiting you again and you found a way

to finish your novel.

 _But Hutch, this is impossible._

Why not?

 _BECAUSE I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANY OF THIS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!_

It doesn't matter. You thought of if. Perhaps that's the key to find him here.

 _What does Starsky think about all this?_

I'll have to tell him later. Go on. Tell me more.

 _I saw the boy's father with a woman. She was a ... brunette._

What about the boy's mom? Was she a brunette too?

 _No._

That makes sense.

 _What do you mean?_

The note! The one he left on the bodies of his victims.

He considered his mother as a blonde angel and all the brunettes

as a personification of the one who took his father away.

This makes perfect sense. Esteban was right. The guy is seeking revenge.

Go on, Marie, tell me more.

 _I saw the boy become a man. He was alone most of the time._

 _Never could feel at ease in the presence of girls._

 _As if his mother became some sort of icon and no other woman_

 _Could match her. As if he put her on a pedestal_.

Sounds logical enough, after she's been through.

Is that all?

 _I know, well, I feel like walking in the park was the only thing that_

 _kept him from breaking everything that night._

 _But he never could manage the rage which was building up_

 _in his heart. He wanted to find revenge, because one woman had_

 _destroyed his family._

How did his mother cope with all this?

 _That's the point. She didn't. Later on she killed herself._

 _She had been fragile all her life and this was just too much for her to take._

Marie, did you really dream all this?

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(to be continued)


	21. Chapter 21

Did you really dream all this?

 _I ... don't know. It somehow came into my mind and I just wrote down a few ideas._

So you're writing again! That's good news.

 _But it scares me!_

Why? You got your inspiration back, why should you be afraid?

 _Because this means you might find the man and solve your case soon._

Hey, finding this guy won't be easy.

I told Starsky we'd better find the fifth girl before he does.

Could be easier that way.

 _Using her as a bait?_

Not really. But in a way... yes.

With what you told me about the puppy,

we could spot her easier than focusing on this guy.

 _Perhaps._

Do you have any idea why he cuts his victims' throats?

 _..._

Marie?

 _I have no idea._

Do you know what his father did for a living?

 _He was a plumber._

Did anything special happen to him while he was still living with his wife and boy?

 _No._

Think, Marie, there's gotta be some detail.

 _I can't. Hutch, I'm tired, I don't wanna go through this anymore._

You've got to.

 _Maybe..._

Yes?

 _One night, there was a noise in the basement, where the little boy was playing._

 _When he found what it was, he started to scream. His father came down._

What was it?

 _It was an animal._

A rat?

 _I don't know what it was, but his father took his pocket knife and slit its throat._

 _The boy looked at the blood on his father's hands in horror._

That could explain his method of killing the brunettes.

Using the most horrible memory he has to get rid of the childhood memory itself.

 _This is weird._

Marie. Nothing surprises me in this...

 _Madness! That's what I think it is. I'm going mad._

 _Talking to you and all this._

Marie. Just remember that at first you thought I was a character in your book.

Then you discovered that I have a life of my own, which you didn't write.

After that you thought you could be a character that I invented. Wrong again.

You're feeling bad, depressed. So did I.

No one will ever explain what happened to us exactly.

You may be a psychic ignoring your power, for all I know.

We may be living in different time and space, what do I care?

 _But Hutch..._

All I know is we need each other to get to the bottom of this and...

 _And what?_

I'm afraid to see the end of the case approaching.

 _Why?_

Because this could mean I'm gonna lose you.

 _Hutch, I'm lost to everyone already._

What do you mean?

 _I..._

Marie? What happened? What's wrong?

 _I won't talk to you again, Hutch. I'm sorry._

Why not?

 _It just hurts too much to be like this._

Like what? Marie, you're starting to scare me.

 _Don't be afraid, Hutch. You have a life. A good one._

 _Good friends around you._

 _You'll make it._

Marie! Stop this. I feel something is very wrong and you're really scaring me now.

 _Find the girl before it's too late. Arrest the guy._

 _And I'm sure your life will be back to normal after that._

But my life right now is with you in it!

 _No, Hutch, I can't. It wouldn't be fair to you._

What do you mean?

 _I'm not the one for you._

But I... I love you, Marie

 _No you don't. I'm fragile and you like to comfort me. That's different._

 _You pity me. You want to protect me._

That's not true. I held you in my arms? I felt your heart against mine.

I ... oh Marie, don't do this to me. Don't go away.

 _I have to. And when I'm gone, you'll keep me as a sweet memory._

 _As if you were the one who wrote about me and somehow fell in love_

 _with one of your characters. It's happened before to other writers._

But I'm NOT a writer. I'm a cop!

 _With the soul of a poet, Hutch, everyone knows that._

 _Go get the bad guy now. Tell Starsky all I've told you._

 _And remember me for what I was._

 _A pleasant memory, nothing more._

Marie, don't you dare quit now.

 _It's too late, Hutch._

I don't understand.

 _I can't undo what I did._

What have you done?

 _I did what was necessary to put an end to my nightmare._

Marie! What have you done? No!

 _Good bye, sweet Hutch. Remember me._

 _I love you too._

 _Forgive me._

Noooooo! Mariiiiiiiie!

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Starsky was holding Hutch's body against him. When he saw the tears flow from his partner's closed eyes, he knew something terrible had happened. He held on until Hutch stopped fighting.

"Open your eyes, man, just look at me. I'm here, Buddy."

Hutch kept his eyes closed and grabbed his friend as tight as he could, like the day he squeezed his hands on Starsky's leather jacket after discovering Gillian's dead body on the floor. It was the only way for him to feel alive, sane, safe. Though what he felt down deep inside was the most horrible sensation he had ever felt in his whole life. Like he had had a limb amputated without anesthesia.

"She left me."

"What?"

"She left me, Starsk. She won't be back again."

"What do you mean?"

"I think she's... gonna commit suicide."

"Oh man." Starsky squeezed his friend tighter on his chest. He felt Hutch's silent tears rolling down his shoulder. "I'm here, Buddy. I won't leave you. I'm here."

Both men remained in a tight embrace, Starsky cradling Hutch's shivering body very tenderly, as if he was holding his own little boy.

Silence wrapped around them as softly as a cashmere scarf.

The only sound they could hear was their hearts beating in unison.

Nothing else...

... Because it had stopped raining all of a sudden.

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Once again, Starsky knew he would be needed more than ever. Once again he knew Hutch would try to push him away and go through his depressive phase alone. Once again he would fail to do so.

Because, tonight, Starsky had the definite certitude that a dramatic event was about to destroy Hutch's self confidence again. Too much was too much. All these years he had tried - and failed - to build up a decent life as a man. His life as a cop was exemplary. He was a friend you could trust with your life. He was Starsky's best friend, even more than that, his other self. Their unfailing close interaction sometimes made other officers a bit jealous. Even Dobey had never truly considered assigning another partner to one of them when the other one was out of the loop for a while. Close wasn't even strong enough to describe the relationship between the two men. More than often, one would finish the sentence the other one had started. It even worked at an unconscious level, when one smiled at an idea the other one hadn't even said aloud.

Tonight, there was no need for words. Holding Hutch close to him was all he needed to do. This was his way of telling him _"I'm here, man, feel me, feel the strength I have for both of us right now, hold on to me, I'll be your buoy as long as you need me."_ Tonight, Hutch needed to feel real, tangible, in a world he had tried to reject once too often. Starsky wasn't sure though that, this time, his friend would recover.

Because it's easier to get rid of the pain - any kind of pain - when you can put a name, or a face, to it. When a girl dumps you, you can always say her name aloud in rage, or tell her to get the hell out of your life. When the drug tries to hook you in a dangerous loop, you can always hold on to your best buddy who will keep you away from it. When you're hurt, shot at, feverish, you know there will be a cure and that you will recover any time soon.

But how do you recover from someone you actually never met, a silhouette you held in your arms only in your dreams, a love that never started with a normal encounter, a body you never really touched or kissed or loved? How do you get back to your life after you even doubted having one in the first place?

Starsky was unable to put a name to what Hutch had gone through. The only thing he was sure of was that this time, he might not be strong enough to get his friend back on tracks. Simply because part of his heart was still _there_. And he couldn't even put a name on " _there_ ".

He waited until he felt Hutch had stopped shivering. He looked at him, put a hand on his shoulder and raised Hutch's chin with the other to force him to look up.

"I'm here, Buddy. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Hutch let the tears roll down his cheeks. No shame here. They had shared tears so many times. Terry. Gillian. These drops of pure emotions freely offered had made the bond between them more solid than the hardest steel. Starsky felt his eyes were getting wet too. The pain on Hutch's face this time was almost unbearable. Because he knew that neither one would be able to do anything to help her. If she was lost in her reality, there was no way Hutch could even say goodbye. The link was broken. So was his heart.

"Let it out, man, just speak to me."

Hutch took a long a deep breath. He didn't even bother to wipe the tears from his face. He sniffled a couple of times before he tried to put his feelings into words.

"Marie..."

Even pronouncing her name was painful as a million needles.

Starsky let him catch his breath and waited patiently.

"Marie told me she had a dream about the guy. And why he became a killer. And why he's after brunettes. And then she told me... about how she feels. Starsky! We talked about... I mean, she thought that _she_ could be an illusion in my reality. She went to see a shrink, like I did. But it seems she can't cope with this kind of situation anymore. She feels her life is... Oh man, I tried to tell her. I wanted to... Starsk, please, tell me what to do."

Starsky now had both hands on Hutch's shoulders. His eyes were wet too. He swallowed hard. He remembered the day he sat besides Terry when she breathed her last breath. Today, he felt the exact same strangling sensation in his throat, as if the air couldn't pass any longer and he was gonna die from lack of oxygen, from lack of love.

"I don't know, pal. I wish there was something I could do to ease the pain. All I can do right now is stay here with you and listen to you and share the pain with you."

"Starsk..." The way Hutch pronounced his friend's name held everything at once: call for help, despair, trust, hope to find a cure.

"Yeah, Hutch, that's it. Talk to me Buddy."

"I... I need to write this down. Can't talk."

"As you wish..."

Starsky slowly let go of his friend's shoulders and went to the kitchen. He came back with a notebook and a pencil. He put them in front of Hutch who grabbed the pencil and started to write almost frenetically all the details Marie had told him. Starsky watched in silence and found it strange that the supposedly imaginary character who met his creator had now turned into some sort of a writer himself. The thought made him smile but he refrained from letting the smile spread on his lips, as he feared Hutch might think he was mocking him.

When Hutch stopped writing, Starsky saw he had filled three full pages. He gently took the notebook from Hutch's hands and started to read. The usually neat writing was a bit messy, but he could make it out. He had written about the girl with the puppy, the Christmas evening that changed the fate of a little boy who turned into a brunettes' killer.

Starsky put the notebook down on the bed, beside Hutch and looked at his friend.

"Where do you wanna start?"

"The girl. If we find her and stick to her, we'll get the killer."

"Shall we go back to the library then?"

"Yes. First thing in the morning."

"Okay, that's a deal. Tomorrow..." he looked at his watch. "Well later today, it's three in the morning. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"Can't."

Starsky looked aside for a moment and grabbed Hutch's arm.

"C'mon. I've got an idea."

Hutch stood up and followed his friend without asking any question. Starsky made him sit on the kitchen floor and disappeared for about thirty seconds. When he came back, he sat on the floor in front of Hutch and started to lay out the Monopoly board between them.

That's when Hutch couldn't hold the pain any longer. He burst out sobbing. Just like Starsky, years ago, long after they had opened Terry's presents, long after they had drunk all the beers in the fridge, long after Starsky had tried his best to contain the pain.

"It's way past midnight, pal. So I will accept a bit of negligence in taking care of the Bank." Starsky sounded formal while he pushed the box with the money toward Hutch.

Starsky had also brought two beers and handed one to his friend. Hutch grabbed the bottle, took the bottle opener which Starsky had brought and opened his own. He put it on the floor and opened the other one. Starsky was watching him with a sense of pride and a bit of joy. Pride to see that he had managed to bring him - or some of him - back to reality. Joy because, no matter what, he hadn't lost his friend.

He took his bottle and raised it in front of Hutch.

"May the best man win. Because this time, I feel like I'm gonna buy all the good places."

"Don't count on it. You never managed to finish a game without being totally flat broke."

"Those times are over, pal."

 _Geez, it's so good to hear your voice again. The real you. Welcome back, Blondie._

They drank to that. There was even the beginning of a smile on Hutch's face, which faded almost instantly.

 _Don't worry, man, it'll take time to get over it. But you'll manage. You always do. It's nothing like the plague or being crushed under you car for days or losing Gillian. But you'll manage. I have no idea what you went through over there with her, but I swear that I'll help you, no matter what, no matter how long it takes._

"Your turn!" Starsky said as he handed the dice to Hutch.

They started to play.

The skies were dry.

The clock was ticking.

The dice were rolling.

Time passed, as it does always.

When the clock struck seven, neither one was tired. They had played without interruption, except to grab another beer in the fridge from time to time.

They went for a shower, Hutch first, Starsky next.

By seven forty five, they were driving to the Precinct. Hutch's eyes were a bit swollen. Starsky wasn't looking any better either. They didn't care. They were back on a manhunt. A team of two perfect hunting dogs, ready for the greatest chase of their lives.

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(to be continued)


	22. Chapter 22

_**Hi Everyone!**_  
 _ **Happy Wednesday! Here is a new chapter...**_

 _ **At this point, I'd like to thank each and everyone of you who have come and read this story so far.**_  
 _ **Thank you for all the lovely reviews.**_  
 _ **Thanks to my faithful reviewer Rosey, who's sitting on the edge of her seat right now /*wink*/, waiting to see what I've done with the boys :-)**_  
 _ **Thanks to Hutch-is-gorgeous for joining.**_  
 _ **As well as to acmabry, are you still enjoying?**_  
 _ **Also to MaryEllen309 and kristuite: just hang on, Dears**_  
 _ **And Litany, now that the "special" chapter is over, are you enjoying the sequel?**_  
 _ **And dessertalicous & Paula UK, are you still with us?**_  
 _ **And last but not least, a big thanks to tullyfan for the exquisite review. I truly hope to read more from you on the following chapters.**_

 _ **So, a big thanks to all of you out there, who didn't write a review but still come and read every week.**_  
 _ **OK, I'll stop talking and let the next chapter begin...**_

 _ **Enjoy ^_^**_  
 _ **Love,**_  
 _ **Lyxie**_

* * *

When they entered the squad room, they had the unpleasant surprise to see their not so favorite feds waiting for them. They seemed a bit nervous. Hutch quietly walked to his place and took his jacket off with very slow and calculated movements. Starsky, on the other hand, gave their visitors a nasty look. He didn't have time to say anything before Callaghan got aggressive.

"Would you care to tell us whether this investigation is just a game for you, gentlemen?"

Starsky felt like he was going to hit him.

"On the contrary, Dear Mr. Callaghan. We are about to solve the case. What about you? Eaten any good reports lately? "

Callaghan's right hand made a fist. But the man was too well trained, or even better, too well tamed to allow himself to show his anger in any way. Engels wasn't moving at all.

"Very funny, Starksy."

"Still dyslexic?"

"Get to the point! What have you found you haven't shared with us? "

"There is no power on Earth which will force me to answer you. If there is any relevant information to communicate, my Captain will be notified. And then HE will decide whether you can handle it in a suitable way. "

"You won't get away with this! It was decided you should cooperate with us all along. And we haven't heard from you a lot lately. "

"Wasn't it planned that YOU would assist us on this case? This is our jurisdiction! "

"Sta-"

"Forget it! You'll have our report when it's typed. There! You satisfied? "

Hutch felt this was the right the moment to interfere.

"If my partner told you that you'll get our report soon, it means exactly what you heard: you'll have the report soon."

His voice was so calm and cold that even Starsky turned around to face his partner. All he could see in Hutch's eyes was cold determination. The only detail that eluded him was what he had in mind right now.

Engels started to walk to the door, followed by a more than frustrated Callaghan.

When they had left the squad room, Starsky stared at his partner.

"What's got into you? You suddenly sounded so ..."

"So what?" Hutch's tone was till calm.

"So detached."

"I have to be, Starsk, for now. Otherwise, I'll... "

"You...?"

"I think I'll go nuts for good."

"Oh no you won't. Not after you went through. "

"Not because of what happened, Starsk. Because of what _will_ happen. "

Starsky didn't have to ask for more. He knew what his friend had meant. There was no need to twist the knife one more time.

The door banged open behind them and Dobey burst into the room.

"I just saw your favorite Feds leave the place. Their faces were all but happy. What the hell happened again between you? Have you shared some info about the case? "

Starsky was all smiles.

"No. They didn't have anything new for us. "

"That's not what I asked, Starsky! Have you made some progress? "

"Yes, Captain. But this is a very critical moment. We have received some reliable news from … a reliable informant. And we'll check it out as soon as we are done with the Chinese jewelery report. "

"I thought that one was history already?"

Dobey sounded more than furious.

" Er...I had to add a few details. "

Starsky was keeping a low profile and tried to sound as persuasive and cooperative as he could, to avoid any more embarrassing questions about the Brunettes case.

" Get to it. And move out of here. Find this lunatic! "

" Yes, Sir! "

As soon as Dobey disappeared in his office, their phone started to ring. Hutch mechanically reached for it.

" Detective Hutchinson. "

" _Detective, it's Madelin."_

Hutch suddenly raised his back and pressed the receiver to his ear. Starsky frowned and silently questioned his partner. But Hutch wasn't paying attention.

"Have you found her?"

" _Maybe. I'm not sure. Yesterday, just before the library closed, a young woman came to ask for a book which has been borrowed already. I suggested she came back today, because I checked the purchase list we recently made and that book was on it. We're supposed to be getting an extra copy this afternoon. You see, this book is requested very oft-"_

"Did you get her name?" Hutch interrupted her.

" _Unfortunately no. She told me she would come back today. She was in a hurry and wanted to get home before an accident happened. "_

"Accident? What are you talking about? "

" _The pup."_

Hutch froze.

"What pup?"

Starsky froze.

" _The little pup she had in her arms. Such a lovely cute little thing. You should-"_

"Madelin, by any chance, was that puppy a ... Dalmatian?"

A short silence.

" _How did you guess?"_

"Just a ... Listen, Madelin, and listen carefully. This young lady is probably in great danger. We need to protect her. So could you call us as soon as she comes again? "

" _Yes... of course, Detective."_

"Thanks, Madelin."

" _You're welcome."_

"I really mean it. You've been very professional. "

He could almost hear her smile at the other end of the line.

When he hung up, Hutch's face was looking anxious. Starsky poured a large mug of coffee and handed it to Hutch who took it without realizing what it was. He drank some of it absentmindedly and put the mug back on the desk.

"Only a couple of hours and we'll identify the fifth girl. Isn't it great? "

Starsky was trying to sound reassuring. But he could see Hutch wasn't listening.

"Hey! Where are you? "

"Huh?"

"Can you... " he whispered the rest of his sentence " hear her?"

"Nope."

"Do you think there is a chance you may talk to her again?"

"I don't know."

"But what if you tried like last time, do you think it could w-"

"I told you I DON'T KNOW, STARSK!"

All heads turned when he shouted. Starsky looked at their colleagues.

" It's been one of these days, huh? And it's not even lunch time. "He apologized to the ones around with a big smile.

Then he turned to Hutch again.

"Calm down, Buddy, I was only trying to help."

"I don't need your help!" Hutch was aggressive.

"Hey, don't shoot." Starsky replied raising both hands in a surrender gesture. "Relax. What do you say we hit the streets for a while, to get some fresh air? "

"I wanna stay here in case M-"

"That wasn't really a suggestion, Buddy. More like a friendly order. Now, c'mon. If Madelin calls, Dispatch will forward the call and most of all, we might be in the vicinity when the call arrives, right? Now, move your butt and come with me. "

Hutch found it less difficult to obey than he thought. He took his jacket and followed his partner. When he sat in the Torino, he closed his eyes and made an attempt to open his mind and listen to any familiar echo.

But there was none.

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The hours were passing slowly.

Hutch was fidgeting on his seat every two minutes.

Starsky was driving and answering the calls from Dispatch.

If extraordinary events hadn't taken place during the last few days, this would have been nothing but another ordinary day.

Yet, this time, the routine was the one thing Hutch wanted to avoid. He wanted a call, a surprise, and most of all; he wanted to hear some news. Although Starsky had tried from time to time to start a casual conversation, Hutch had retreated into a painful silence and there was only once voice he wanted to disturb it, and it wasn't his friend's.

At lunch time, Starsky pulled over in front of a hamburger shop and ordered two "specials". Hutch didn't even look at his. Nor did he make a gesture to take it from Starsky's hands. He was simply not... there.

At the end of the afternoon, Dispatch called them again.

"Zebra three, respond please."

This time and without knowing why, Hutch reached for the mike first.

"This is Zebra three. Go ahead."

"We just a call from a Madelin Earhart. She said that the person you're looking for has arrived."

"Thanks. Zebra three out."

"You could be more polite." Starsky suggested gently.

"Shut up and drive, Starsk."

"And may I suggest you be a tiny little bit more polite with me too, while you're at it?"

Hutch didn't reply. He was staring at the traffic in front of them, as if he could clear the streets with a single thought.

Starsky drove as fast as he could whilst trying to navigate through the dense traffic at this hour.

"Earth to Hutch. Earth to Hutch. Respond please."

"To hell with you. DRIVE!"

"Okay." Starsky replied calmly.

 _I forgive you that, Buddy. Because I know you're not your usual self. But this whole story'd better end up soon, because I fear you're not going to recover properly otherwise. I need my old Hutch. Not the zombie you've become. Please, God, help us put an end to this nightmare. I don't know whether I can hold on much longer. I know I have to, but what if he doesn't let me in? Huh? How am I supposed to be his best friend when he turns against the whole world? Shit, listen to me! Sorry, man, I'm here, you can hit me anytime if it makes you feel better and helps you survive this. I don't care. I only hope she was worth it._

He looked at his friend with hidden compassion. Hutch was holding the dashboard so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

When they reached the library, Starsky hadn't stopped the engine before Hutch rushed out of the car and ran to the entrance.

When he finally joined him, Hutch was talking to a young brunette at the desk where Madelin was on duty. The young girl seemed a bit alarmed by the blond man who had almost run into her. He was trying to explain why he was there, but his conversation made no sense to either woman.

Starsky decided to take over.

"Excuse me, Miss. I'm Detective Starsky. And this big tall blond here who rushed into you is my partner, Detective Hutchinson." Starsky said very calmly while showing his badge.

The young girl tried to smile, but she was still a bit perplexed by Hutch's attitude.

"I'm..." she started but somehow she was trembling a little and couldn't say more.

"I'm sorry if we startled you, but we are in the middle of an investigation and we'd like to ask you a few questions. Don't be alarmed. You haven't done anything wrong. On the contrary, you could help us solve a difficult case."

Starsky's tone and smile reassured the brunette. Madelin was smiling at him.

 _Hey, that's a new one!_ \- Starsky thought.

"Could you tell me your name, please?" Starsky asked the brunette.

"Ellie."

Hutch closed his eyes and started to shiver a little.

"Ellie Sheppard."

"Well, Ellie Sheppard," Starsky went on "we're really glad we found you. Would you please come with us for a moment? We need to explain a few things... Madelin, "he said smiling broadly at the lady behind her desk "is there a place where we can talk in private?"

"Sure. The director had to leave early today. You can use his office. Up there, first door on your right." she answered pointing at the big staircase behind them.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Starsky replied with a wink. "Miss?" he went on, showing the way to Ellie. "Hutch?"

"Yeah." His voice was almost inaudible.

"C'mon. This concerns you too... somehow."

Hutch dragged his feet while following the two of them up to the first floor. He looked as if the weight on his shoulders was suddenly too much to carry. Now that he felt they were so close to solving this case, he wanted to let go and let Starsky deal with the rest of it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to... talk to her. He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, all he could see was that same environment than a moment before, Madelin, Starsky and... the fifth victim. Well, she wasn't a victim yet. He suddenly looked around him, in panic. What if the killer was already here somewhere? He must have seen them talking to Ellie. His plan might be compromised. He might chose another one. But Marie talked about the puppy and Ellie was the right girl. So what?

Lost in a turmoil of wild thoughts, he followed his partner to the first floor.

 _Oh Marie, I wish you were here with me. Why did you leave me like this? What have you done? Please answer me. I meant no harm. You're real to me and I want you back in my life. I never thought I could say this, but you are so different from the girls I met before. Sounds cheap, right? No, it sounds ... oh what the hell! I already miss you, that's the only truth I know. I miss your touch even if we never really met, I miss the sound of your voice, even if we never really talked, and I miss your way of being so fragile and trusting me. Marie, please, answer me. Come back to me, I beg you..._

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(to be continued)


	23. Chapter 23

When they entered the Director's room, Ellie felt uncomfortable and anxious, especially when she saw the blond detective's attitude, now totally different, now completely detached. She tried to give all her attention to Starsky, who sounded relaxed, as a matter of fact and sure of himself.

"Miss Shepard?" Starsky said, pulling out a chair for her in front of the wooden desk: then he sat next to her, leaning his forearms on his knees. "How long have you lived in Bay City?"

"Er... a couple of months. Why do you ask?"

"We'd like to know a bit more about you."

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

Hutch sighed.

"No, of course not. Miss Shepard," Hutch had never heard him sound to gentle before, "we've been chasing a suspect for several weeks, and he seems to be focusing on... well... on girls matching your type."

Ellie's face lost its color. She was as white as a Geisha.

"Do you mean... I've heard about..."

"The brunettes' killer?"

"Yes..." her voice now sounded ghostly too.

"That's why we are here, Ellie." Starsky replied, taking her hands in his. Somehow, he thought that calling her by her first name would make her feel more at ease. "We have determined his profile and we are almost sure you ... I mean, he could come after you."

"Oh my God!"

"Don't worry. We are here to protect you and arrest him before he makes his move. But we are gonna need your cooperation to do so."

"I don't understand. If you know who the man is, why don't you simply arrest him right now?"

"Because we need to catch him... in the act, actually the moment before he attempts anything, and... well, we don't exactly know what he looks like, nor _when_ he's gonna move."

Ellie freed her hands from Starsky's.

"But you just said you knew who he was!"

"I said we have established his profile, which means we know who he's after, but we haven't identified him...yet."

Starsky's took her hands in his again and squeezed them gently.

"Ellie, we are going to keep an eye on you, and before he attempts anything, we'll be there to get him and you won't have to worry any more."

"Are... are you sure?"

"I promise." he replied with his best charming smile.

"What about him?" she said nodding to Hutch, who was standing with his back against the door and his hands in his jacket pockets.

"He'll be there too. We work together."

"He looks... bizarre." she whispered, leaning towards Starsky.

"Don't worry. My partner is simply very tired. We both are. We've been running this case for a while now and we have spent entire nights trying to find this guy. Don't worry, Ellie. You're in good hands."

Ellie seemed to relax just a little and attempted a shy smile.

"All right. But I'm still scared."

"I know, Ellie. That's why we're here. So that no more girls in this town need to be afraid of him."

Ellie frowned. "How did you know I was... on the list?"

Starsky looked at Hutch who stared back at him: there was nothing but despair in the blond's eyes right now. Then he looked at Ellie again.

"Let's say we are pretty good at our job and my partner here has what you could call ... a hunch."

"Are you serious? You based your assumption that I could be the next victim on a hunch? What kind of police work is that?"

"As a matter of fact, we've been studying his way of... well... proceeding and the clues lead here, to this library. There was also a combination of factors involving names and... it'd be too complicated to explain it all right now. Just trust me. You'll be fine, Ellie. Okay?"

He smiled at her in such a friendly way that she couldn't help but smile back. The legendary Starsky's charm was working again.

"Okay." she simply said.

"Now, tell me, what are your plans for tonight?"

"What?"

Starsky's eyes were twinkling with delight.

"Sorry, Ellie, I didn't mean it that way."

She blushed.

 _She's deliciously shy. Hey, man, get a grip; you're here on a rescue mission, not a hunting party, right? So focus!_

"I just wanted to know where you plan to go, the people you are going to meet..."

"Do you really think he's gonna hit tonight?"

Starsky looked at her, trying hard not to let it show that he found her attractive.

"My friend thinks so. And for me, that's good enough. So tell me. What about this evening?"

"I actually didn't plan anything, except going to the park with my prince?"

"Your ... prince?"

"Yeah, my little puppy. That's his name, Prince. He had a good pedigree and the lady who gave him to me told me that his parents were champions once. So I thought I could name him..."

"Prince. Very cute indeed. So no other plan?"

"No. I just told you so."

 _Don't insist, man. Why don't you ask her whether she has boyfriend, while you're at it? Talk about professionalism! Hey, I can't help it. She's damn cute and moreover she's in danger, which makes her even more attractive. But first things first, if Blondie's right, we should nail that son of a bitch tonight. Then she's gonna be so scared and relieved at the same time. She' gonna fall in my arms like a ripe peach._

He managed to stop himself from smiling at the last image that had popped in his head.

"Okay, we'll follow you discreetly to your place and watch over you from a distance, so he won't spot us. Don't be alarmed, we'll only be a few feet away."

"What if he attacks me before you're able to react?" her voice was again tainted with fear.

"Not a chance. I'm as fast as a cheetah."

"Oh, I see."

"And my partner is even faster: was a champion in college and everything."

"Somehow, it doesn't make me feel more secure... sorry, this wasn't meant as a criticism, Detective, it's just that I've heard... well... I read horrible stories in the newspapers."

"You shouldn't always trust what you read. Sometimes people write things just to draw attention on them."

As he spoke, he peeked at Hutch. His partner seemed to have heard. He saw him frown just a little but that was the limit of his reaction to Starsky's somewhat nasty remark.

"Don't you worry, Ellie. Why don't you go ahead. We'll be right behind, like your shadows. How did you come here, car, bus?"

"I drove. My car is parked on the other side of the street."

"Great. Our car is parked in front of the library. A red car with a white stripe. You can't miss it."

"Okay. Thank you very much, Detective." She said, extending a hand which Starsky shook delicately. "See you... later?"

"Count on it."

She hesitated for a moment in front of Hutch, who hadn't made a move to get his hands out of his pockets, and rapidly left the room. After a few seconds, both detectives followed her at a distance.

Starsky couldn't help stopping by Madelin's desk.

"Thanks a lot, you've been wonderful. May I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course. If I can assist you any further, I'd be glad."

"There's an "e" missing on your name tag?"

"It's not missing. My parents wanted to give me name a bit more original. And, if I may, it seems you found the missing "E" somehow, right?" she ended with a big smile and pointing at the young girl who was about the leave the building. " E as in Ellie."

"Yeah. Or E like End." he whispered to himself.

He smiled at Madelin and followed Hutch to the Torino. Ellie was already in her car and was waiting for the detectives to start the engine before engaging in the late afternoon traffic.

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"She's nice, don't you think so?"

"Huh?"

"I said she's nice."

"Who?"

"Madelin Shepard."

"Hmmm... yes."

"I think I'm in love."

"Good."

"Hutch!"

"What?"

"You haven't listened to one word I just said."

"Yeah."

"See?"

"Starsk."

"Gimme me a break."

"You've had a break for at least two hours. We've been waiting in the car and so far nothing happened. Don't tell me we're gonna look like assholes just because of another "hunch" of yours and that Ellie could file a complaint for police harassment when she finds out this killer story was just crap."

"It isn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Told you. I know."

"Is Marie still there... somewhere?" Starsky asked pointing at Hutch's forehead with his forefinger.

"Nah."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Shit, Hutch, you're driving me mad. Snap out of it, man, this is the real world. And I'm flesh and blood sitting next to you, and everything around you is real. You'd better get a grip. If Dobey finds out...

"Finds out what? Everything I said until now was right, okay?" Hutch shouted. "So get out of my hair and let me breathe, for Christ's sake!"

Hutch opened the door violently, stepped out of the car and slammed it shut.

"Hey, that's my car, Blondie."

"Shut up!"

Starsky stepped out of the car, left his door open and rushed around the car to face his partner. All he wanted right now was to punch him in the face. He grabbed his jacket instead and forced him to look at him. Hutch made an attempt to get away from his friend's grip but Starsky was holding on tight.

"No. Stop this! Stop it, Hutch, before it's too late. You're doing yourself no good hanging on to this delusion."

"THIS IS NOT A DELUSION!"

"How do I know? And if it's not, you gotta get rid of it anyway. Or it will get dangerous for both of us."

Hutch stared at the man standing in front of him. For the first time since they had known each other, he saw something he'd never seen before in his eyes. Was it anger? No. It was more than that. And it was aimed at him. This time, it was hatred. His long-time partner, his best friend was showing a new face he never expected to see. Starsky's usually-captivating blue eyes now had a tinge of cold steel shining in a freezing winter morning. Hutch closed his eyes and started to breathe deeply. He didn't make a new attempt to reach for Marie. He just tried to breathe away the pressure on his chest.

Somehow, Starsky felt his friend was relaxing and, just a little, he let go of the jacket.

"That's better."

"I... I'm lost, Starsk."

"I know, pal."

"I'm afraid something bad's gonna happen to me too."

"Not a chance."

"How could you tell?"

"I'm here, right beside you, all the time, night and day, remember? Like a bodyguard."

"Thanks, Buddy."

"Correction. Not bodyguard, I'm your goddam Buddy Guard! Hey, I like the sound of that!"

"Yeah... me too. Thanks."

"You said that already. Anything else?"

"I'm sorry."

"I can take that too. What more? C'mon, let it all out."

"I don't know how I let myself drag into this. This makes no sense. You're right, I'm real, and so are you and this whole story is just..."

"Just a story we won't try to explain. It happened, that's all. Now we gotta nail the killer and close this case, right?"

Hutch slowly raised his hands and put them on Starsky's. They remained motionless for a moment, then Starsky let go of the jacket.

"Hey, get your hands off me, if anyone sees us right now, they're gonna have us arrested for indecent behavior." Starsky smiled.

Hutch attempted a smile too, but it looked like a grimace.

"Try again, Buddy."

This time, Hutch's lips corners stretched a bit more and he gave his friend a genuine smile, showing teeth.

"You know they say smiling is the best way to show your teeth to the enemy. And I'm not the enemy here; you know that, Big Lummox! So try to remember that in the future!"

"I will". Hutch's voice was so low that Starsky read the words on his lips more than he heard them.

"C'mon back in the car. We're supposed to be on a stakeout. Ellie came back from the stroll in the park one hour ago and so far, our suspect hasn't shown up yet."

"What do you suggest we do now?" Hutch asked.

"Wait. If she's next on the hit list, we'd better be around. Anyway, I didn't plan anything for tonight. Did you?" Starsky asked with a mocking smile.

"Nope."

"Good. Then it's just you and me. What a lovely night!" He yawned and stretched his arms. While doing so, his right hand came in contact with Hutch's neck. He brushed his friend's hair a little, to make him feel he wasn't angry anymore and grabbed the wheel again.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll be watching" Starsky said.

" 'Kay." Hutch mumbled.

He tried to find a better position to sleep but as usual he found the Torino too small for his long legs to accommodate. But he decided not to complain this time. After the show he'd pulled on his partner, he thought that fate had given him the best friend any man could ever have dreamed of... and he knew a bit about dreaming.

He gradually closed his mind to any sound around him, even tried to obliterate the reason they were here, at this hour of night, instead of enjoying the simple pleasure of a cold beer at Huggy's or a stupid Monopoly game at Venice Place. He thought of the long walks he took on the beach but tried to forget the time when he was ready to throw his hopes and career into the ocean together with his badge. Once again, an angel popped into the scenario at the right time and the right place. The image of shattered glass covered with blood - his blood – flashed violently behind the closed curtains of his eyes. An angel on a motorbike had emerged from nowhere and saved him. There were so many moments when his life had been at stake, when he was that close to being shot or hurt. And each and every time, Heaven had decided otherwise. His time hadn't come yet. The angel had prevented the disaster to happen. He made it. He had survived. He was still there. Thanks to the angel next to him. Indeed, he started to think of Starsky as his _Buddy Guard_. There was no-one else he would rather trust with his life.

He felt the slow and creeping pinch of shame circling his heart. Did he deserve a friend like him? What could he do to make it up to him? Let go, for sure. Of this nonsense. Of Marie, once and for all. Of a love which was never born in his world, an impossible one. A dream. Nothing but a dream. Even if, in a way he would never be able to explain, this dream had helped them solve a mysterious case.

Yeah. To live and let go. To trust. To believe. In real things. Tangible ones. Like the warmth of his partner next to him. Like the girl who was waiting to be rescued on the other side of the street. Let go. Breathe. Deeply. Slowly. Empty mind. Even Marie's voice was just a far away echo...

Huuuuuuuuuuuuutch!

His breathing suddenly became laborious. He felt as if he was under water. If he opened his mouth, his lungs would fill with liquid and he would die. His chest was burning from the lack of oxygen.

 _Huuuuuuuuuuuuutch, wake up! He's there!_

 _Can't... breathe._

 _Wake up. She's gonna die._

 _Marie?_

 _Hutch, he's there, so close to her. Wake up now!_

 _You're not real. I'm dreaming._

 _Nooooooo!_

He felt hands, grabbing his shirt, pulling his motionless body out of the water. Strong hands. He heard a voice. He felt warmth.

Marie?

"Hutch, for Christ's sake. Wake up, Buddy. You're having a nightmare!"

Hutch took a long gulp of air, opened his eyes painfully. He saw Starsky, both hands on his shirt, attempting to bring him back to reality.

Without a word, he rushed out of the car and ran to the building where Ellie lived. Starsky had no other choice but run after him, gun in hand.

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(to be continued)


	24. Chapter 24

_(The following scene is supposed to last only a few minutes. I hope I managed. Hold your breath; it's a long way down)_

* * *

They ran to the building, in perfect synchronization. Hutch had pulled his Magnum from its holster as soon as he rushed out of the car. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. Starsky was running behind him and didn't get the chance to see his partner's face. If he had, he would have feared the worst.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor like the devil was on their tail. When they reached Ellie's apartment, they slowed down and took position on each side of the door, Starsky on the left, Hutch on the right, each with his gun ready.

Starsky opened his eyes wide, silently questioning his partner. He hadn't taken the time to ask what was going on and had just reacted on instinct, rushing after a wild Hutch.

"What are you doing?" he mouthed, so that Hutch could understand.

Hutch nodded to the apartment and then lowered his chin twice, to indicate a positive target.

Starsky frowned, not knowing whether their next move would be a total disaster or a brilliant rescue mission. For the first time in all his years of close collaboration with Hutch, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. For the very first time, he doubted. But a tiny click in his heart told him to go forward. To trust. _Me and Thee? What the hell! He can't be that wrong._ _OK, Blondie, show me the way. But I swear it's the last time you'll make me feel like... whatever!_

Starsky motioned to the door with his chin, informing his partner he was ready.

Everything happened very fast from the moment Hutch banged the door open with one violent kick right after shouting "Police!". He crouched meanwhile Starsky rolled over into the room and rapidly aimed at the man who was in his line of fire. Both of them saw the knife. Both of them saw Ellie's frightened face. There was no blood... yet. The man reacted so fast that neither detective could get a clear aim at him. The man hid behind Ellie and had the knife at her neck with his left hand meanwhile he wrapped his other arm in front of her chest. He wasn't as tall as Hutch would have imagined. He had a mustache and his hair was as dark as a crow's feathers. His eyes were full of hatred and his face was red with rage. Was it because he was excited about what he was about to do or because the detectives' sudden arrival in the room had somehow ruined his wicked plans?

Ellie's face was even paler than when Starsky had told her the danger she was likely to face. Now she understood. Now she was truly scared to death. Starsky saw she was shaking like a leaf. He was sure that in a moment she would collapse on the floor. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and her hands, as she was making a desperate attempt to set herself free from the madman's violent embrace. She opened her mouth. She wanted to call for help. She looked at Starsky with pleading eyes. No sound passed her lips.

Hutch knelt on the left side of the door and was in a position to shoot the man in the right arm. Would that be enough? He had to get a clear line to the head. Shoot the bastard in the brains and blow him away for good. He tried to connect with Marie. She knew. How could she have known the bad guy was here? Oh yes, she was the writer! What an irony! And how did that bastard get inside the apartment in the first place? He must have been in the building before they arrived. Damn! None of them had thought of checking the place out first. They had inspected her apartment and the main access. But something had eluded them. And now, they were in the middle of a mess, with a young girl facing death, a killer who would certainly die within the next minutes, and two cops facing an inextricable hostage situation.

Starsky was evaluating all the possible scenarios as fast as he could. He wasn't in an ideal position to aim and shoot to kill. Not without risking hitting Ellie at the same time. So he quickly looked at Hutch and signaled his partner they had to distract the killer for a split second. He thought perhaps talking to the bad guy would make him react and maybe, just maybe, he would move and Starsky could get him in the line. He focused all his attention on the killer, sneaking glances at his partner. And each time, all he saw was his partner's pale face, hypnotized by the scene in front of him. For a moment he doubted that Hutch would be up to the challenge, the terrible challenge they were facing.

Only twenty seconds after they had rushed in the room, Hutch spoke in a glacial tone.

"Let... her... go!"

The man squeezed Ellie a bit tighter against his chest and the knife's point started to cut her throat, just a little. A tiny drop of blood formed and started its slow voyage to her collarbone.

Ellie's breath became irregular, she started to hyperventilate, yet she couldn't utter a word. Starsky saw she was in complete shock. He saw her chest move up and down in a panic, as if no air was flowing into her lungs anymore. Hutch moved his left foot a little, like a movie set on freeze-frame and slow motion mode. He was still aiming his Magnum and staring at the man's eyes.

Starsky quickly calculated angles. He was pointing his Beretta, aiming at the couple in front of him.

Then it all accelerated at the speed of light. When he saw Starsky's movement, the man slightly turned to his left to expose Ellie's body even better as a shield to the brown-haired detective standing in front of him. By doing so, he exposed his right side a little bit more to Hutch who had just armed his gun. When he heard the sound of the bullet being fed into the Magnum's chamber, the man wanted to turn again and face Hutch but the blond detective had taken advantage of the split second of hesitation and shot, just once, aiming at the head. When she heard the shot, Ellie fainted at the man's feet just as Starsky shot him in the chest. Before his body hit the floor and collapsed on Ellie's, He flung out his left arm and screamed wildly.

Starsky rushed and freed Ellie's body from her aggressor's. She was breathing normally now, but remained unconscious. The wound on her neck was not a life-threatening one and a small blood clot had already formed where the knife had cut her flesh. He made sure the man was dead. He put two fingers on his neck, in search of a pulse, checked the wrist. The guy was gone. He heaved a long sigh and wanted to congratulate Hutch for another successful Me-and-Thee operation. He turned around. And froze in shock. Hutch was lying on the floor, motionless.

The mans' knife had flown out of his hand and hit Hutch in the chest, close to the heart.

He dropped his gun, crawled to his friend and tore the blood-stained shirt open. There was a large spot of blood, rapidly spreading in the fabric of the shirt and on Hutch's bare chest. Starsky took Hutch's right hand in his and felt the pulse beating slowly. Hutch's face was pale and his breathing was shallow.

Starsky jumped to his feet, grabbed the phone and dialed 911. After he gave all the details about the kind of backup needed, he didn't even hang up and knelt again next to Hutch's body. He took his head in his hands and gently laid it on his lap. He didn't dare to pull the knife out, as he feared and knew this could do more damage if the blade cut more vital flesh on its way out. He put his hands on Hutch's face, caressing his cheek then his chest, gently putting some pressure on the wound in a hopeless attempt to stop the bleeding. He took his hand again in his fingers covered with blood and gently squeezed to let his friend know he was being taken care of.

"Oh man, Hutch; hang on in there. The ambulance is on its way. You're gonna be fine. It's just a little cut, huh? I know you can hear me. Just listen to my voice, guiding you back. Don't do this, not now or ever, do you hear me, Buddy? I'm right here, guiding you, guarding you. I'm so sorry I let you down. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you all the way. But who could believe a story like that, huh? ... Jeez, I don't know how you did this, and I don't care, but you made it. You saved the girl. Did your hear that? Ellie's gonna be fine. You saved her. So, don't let me down now... You know how I hate reports. Hey, listen to me; I don't believe what I just said. ... C'mon, Blondie, open your eyes. For me. Just for me, OK? Or move a muscle, a finger, an eyelid, anything, just to let me know you can hear me, that you're fighting to get back... Hutch, don't quit on me, man. You're my pal, and I don't care how nuts this sounds, but I'll never question your sanity or your weird dreams again. I swear... Come back to me, please... Hutch, are you in there?"

Starsky sighed; looked at the ceiling as if some angel was looking right back at him and told him his friend was in good hands. But he saw nothing than the white ceiling and the lamp, surrounded by what looked like an inverted sombrero.

His wet eyes turned again to Hutch. A single tear fell on Hutch's right eye. But Hutch didn't react. Starsky sniffled a couple of times and became restless.

"Where the hell is that damn ambulance?"

He felt he had been waiting for an hour when he heard the sirens approaching. Three minutes later, the paramedics were checking Hutch's condition, to decide whether he could be taken to Memorial immediately.

"He's gonna be OK. The blade didn't touch any vital organ." the ambulance driver announced. He looked like a fifty-five year old veteran who had seen a lot in his career.

"Are... are you sure?" Starsky barely managed to ask, still holding Hutch's hand, even after they had gently put his friend's body on the gurney.

Another medical team had rushed right behind the first one and was taking care of Ellie who started to regain consciousness.

"Don't worry, detective. Your partner was very lucky. The bleeding looks impressive but I can tell you the heart and the lungs are fine. We'll take him now." the old man said, trying to gently encourage Starsky to let go of his friend's hands. "We'll get him and the young lady to Memorial. You can follow us."

"I'd rather stay with him."

"We aren't allowed to let you ride with us."

"But he's hurt, he's my friend and... he needs me."

"What your friend needs right now is that blade taken off his chest and possibly a few stitches. It'll take us less than ten minutes to get to Memorial. And then you'll be with him again."

The man put a firm hand on Starsky's shoulder to reassure him and also make it clear that this wasn't negotiable. Then he gave the signal to his team to take both patients away.

Starsky rushed down the stairs and had already started the engine of his beloved Torino before the paramedics had reached the ambulance.

 _There is no way I'm gonna leave you alone again. Just watch me! When you get to Memorial, I'll be there, waiting for you._

 _And this time, you won't get rid of me, not for a dream, not for a girl, until I'm sure you're back, back in our reality, back on your feet, back in your head!_

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(to be continued)


	25. Chapter 25

"How is he?"

"The doctor hasn't told me yet."

"Is he badly hurt?"

"I... don't know. He was stabbed in the chest. He lost of lot of blood, but..."

"But what? Starsky, tell me what happened?"

Dobey had rushed to Memorial as soon as Starsky had called to say that they had nailed the Brunettes killer and he had to shoot him in self defense. The coroner had called Starsky at the hospital to inform him that he had found a copy of the same note as the one found on each of the previous victims. He had the right suspect on his autopsy table all right. Starsky told he would take care of it early in the morning as soon as he was sure Hutch was out of danger. But since he'd arrived, about five minutes before the ambulance, he had tried several times to sneak in into ER to stay by Hutch's side, but the medical team hadn't let him in. And for the last hour, he'd been pacing like a mad animal in a cage that was too small.

Starsky was now fidgeting on a chair next to his Captain, narrating him briefly what happened. Dobey listened and frowned a bit more each time his detective gave explanations which sounded more than weird. Starsky's speech wasn't making any sense and Dobey put that down to the stress and anxiety he was going through, waiting for good news about his partner.

"He's gonna be all right. He always makes it. You'll see." Dobey whispered.

However, Dobey's expression was preoccupied, even dark.

"Yeah. He's gonna make it. He's... "Starsky was staring at the ER door, waiting for it to open and shed some bright light on his face and his heart.

"What about the girl?" the black man asked.

"She's gonna be OK. She was in a state of shock, but no major injury. She's fine."

"I'm glad to hear that. At least we are rid of this nightmare. You did a good job, Starsky. You both did." Dobey said in a fatherly voice, putting a hand on Starsky's shoulder."

"Yeah. We did. We... Actually, most of the credit goes to Hutch. He was the one having those... hunches about the case."

Dobey looked at his officer and had no idea what he was supposed to understand. All he knew was that his men had performed above expectations on a more than critical investigation.

"Don't really know what you mean, but ... well, you did it! This is gonna get a special mention on your record, for both of you."

Starsky wasn't listening any more. He stood up and walked to the ER door, hesitated to open it against all orders and started to pace again.

"Call me as soon as you get any news. I gotta go back home. Edith and Cal are sick, probably some kind a flu and Rosie has been a bit scared at night recently. You'll be all right, son?" he asked, walking to the nervous detective in front of him and gently squeezing his shoulder again.

"Mmmm... Yeah. Sure. Go home, Cap. I'll call you as soon as ..."

"Sure. You do that."

Dobey left without another word. He knew there was nothing more to say. He knew his men had always cared for each other in times of crisis and pain, and that Starsky preferred to be left alone with Hutch in times like these.

After two hours, the doctor finally came out of ER. Starsky jumped from his chair and rushed to him.

"How is he?"

"He's sustained a serious injury but we have managed to stop the bleeding. He will make it. No major organ was damaged. But..."

"But what?"

"He is in a coma."

"What?"

"He should have reacted to some external stimuli but it seems his organism has just decided to shut down and rest for now. His breathing is regular though."

"So what are you saying, Doc?"

"It looks as if he doesn't want to wake up."

"I don't get it. Is he gonna be OK or not?"

"He is going to recover from the physical wound. We just have to wait until he wakes up now."

"How long is that gonna take?"

"I honestly don't know."

"May I see him?"

"He's being transferred in a private room. When he's settled, you'll be allowed to see him."

"Thanks."

"I've seen you two here before, right?"

"A couple of times, yes."

"And I understand that you are very close friends. Is there anything I can do, detective?"

"I'd like to stay with him, be there when he wakes up, and talk to him, even if he doesn't hear me."

"I've already asked a nurse to arrange for you to stay as long as it's needed. Maybe your voice will help him find his way back."

"Thanks." Starsky whispered.

There was nothing more to say. Everyone who knew them well enough understood that they would eventually find each other again thanks to their special psychic bond. Like they always did in a more than a decade of working together. The doctor who had treated each of them for various injuries had witnessed a deep and special relationship between the detectives, when one would guide the other through the healing process. The nurses were used to checking and bringing coffee or water and leaving on tiptoes, because they also knew there was something more powerful than the content of the IV they verified every hour, something which wasn't registered on the FDA's list of miracle cures.

Ten minutes later, Starsky was sitting next to Hutch and looked at his face, so pale, yet so relaxed. His body was covered up to the waist by a light sheet. His torso had been stripped in a large bandage which showed a bump in the area where the knife had penetrated. Hutch had been put on respiratory assistance and the only other sound Starsky heard was the regular beep of the heart monitor.

His left hand took Hutch's and he put the right one to his friend's chest, without touching it, just hovering one centimeter above, as if he wanted to warm the area with his own body heat and take away the pain. He remained motionless for more than five minutes, head bent, eyes closed, breathing slowly, deeply.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at his friend's face. Hutch hadn't reacted. His breathing was even, as the doctor had said. But his heartbeat was sometimes a bit irregular and the monitor wasn't playing the kind of tune Starsky wanted to hear. From time to time a note was missing. Or several notes were rushing too fast. The heart was skipping a beat. It was almost imperceptible and, as the doctor hadn't mentioned it to Starsky, they thought it was because of the coma.

He sighed, feeling a burning wave of pain in his own chest.

And for the first time in a long time, he started to pray.

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(to be continued)

* * *

 _ **AN: this chapter and the next two will be a bit shorter. But this is meant to keep the chapters end at "the right moment". You know how I love to keep readers on the edge of their seats. Thanks to all who keep on reading the boys adventures. Love, Lyxie**_


	26. Chapter 26

Eduardo Calderone's file hit Dobey's desk early the next morning.

The man had been arrested ten years ago for the attempted rape of a young brunette, in Sacramento, and released on lack of evidence. He had moved to Bay City only six months ago. His mother had died when he was still a young boy and his father was never found. He had apparently left his wife and kid two years before Eduardo's mother committed suicide. The boy had then attended a series of schools and had been adopted by too many foster families, without being able to adapt and stay for more than a couple of months in one place.

Although he had wanted to be a teacher, he had finally found a job as a plumber, like his father. Finding himself following the same route as the man he hated more than anyone carved a well of hate which he started to fill with dreams of vengeance, even if the person he wanted to hurt was out of reach. Almost naturally, the library was his favorite place to spend his free time, as a compensation for the dream job he'd never have.

During the house search, Metro officers found many pictures of Eduardo's mother scattered in all the rooms. She appeared to have been a rather frail woman, with gorgeous blond hair. They also found another note, that same note in Spanish as all the others which had been found on the four brunettes' bodies.

Case closed. No judgment. Eduardo was dead. Ellie was alive. Starsky was OK. Hutch was not.

Starsky had hardly slept, or more exactly, dozed off, for more than five minutes at a time throughout the night. He only agreed to let go of Hutch's hand when nurses came to check on his status and fill the IV with another bag of drip feed and a pain killer.

At six in the morning, he went out to relieve himself, splash some cold water on his face in the men's room and get a coffee. When he came back five minutes later, Hutch's condition hadn't changed, but Starsky could now see something different on his face. Hutch was frowning and he was clenching his teeth.

 _Where are you, Buddy?_ He whispered to himself _. Please, wake up now. It's over... Ellie's fine. We killed the bad guy... Now is a good time for you to show me those blue eyes of yours. Now is the time to tell me you're gonna be fine... I'll never know how we... how you did this, what was that weird story about Marie, but it worked, pal. Somehow. It's still a mystery to me, but it worked... So now, open your eyes and talk to me. I'm right here, see? Do you feel my hand? Do you hear my voice?... C'mon Blondie, it's wake up time. You've got a life here... Don't let me sit here by myself, talking to myself, like a dumb ass... I'd like some company. And it'd better be you, Buddy._

I can hear you, Starsk. But I need to see her, one more time.

See? She's around. I can feel her. And I need to talk to her.

Marie?

I can feel you're there.

Please... talk to me...

One...

\- beep.. beep -

more

\- beep.. beep beepbeep -

time...

 _Hutch? Is that you?_

Marie!

\- beep.. beep -

I don't wanna lose you.

\- beep beep beep -

 _But I'm already part of your memory, Hutch._

Don't you say that! I need you.

\- beep.. beep -

 _No you don't, Hutch. You did it. You saved her._

 _Now I can go back where I belong._

Where is that?

\- beep.. beep beepbeep -

 _I don't know._

You can't leave me, Marie. I...

\- beep.. beep.. beepbeep -

 _No Hutch. You can't love me._

 _I don't belong in your world._

What will I do without you?

\- beep.. beep -

 _You get on with your life._

 _Get back to your job, your life, your friend._

And you?

\- beep.. beep bipbip -

 _You will keep the image of me in your mind._

I can't breathe.

\- beep beep beep beep -

 _Oh yes, you can. You ARE breathing._

 _Your heart is strong._

It hurts.

\- beep beep beep beep -

 _I know. But you're gonna be fine._

Look at me, Marie.

\- beep.. beep.. beep.. beep ...-

 _I'm there, Hutch, in front of you._

You're... What's happening?

\- beep -

 _I have to go now._

No! Reach for my hand!

\- beep.. beep.. -

 _Can't._

You're fading away!

\- beep.. -

 _My own life is pulling me back._

I'm losing you. Take my hand, now! Please!

\- beep.. -

 _I'm already there._

Marie, don't leave me!

\- beep beep beep beep beep -

 _Goodbye sweet Hutch._

 _Don't be scared._

 _You'll be safe now._

Marie!

\- beep beep beep beep beep -

 _I'll remember you, always._

Mariiiiiiie!

-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep -

 _He's reaching out for her, but her form is fading in a strange sparkling mist. The more he walks to her, with painful steps, the more she fades away. He cries. He tries to walk but his body is so heavy that he falls in a dark void. His hands are now reaching above, in a desperate attempt to hold on to something to stop his fall into nothingness._

 _She's out of sight._

 _He's out of breath._

 _He's cold._

 _He feels like someone is hitting his chest with a heavy metal bar. His rib cage is breaking. His muscles are torn with acute agony. His head explodes. His whole body shivers like he's been hit with a million knives. He tries to catch his breath. Opens his mouth to get some air. Can't. And another million knives hit him again. He screams. Begs for the pain to stop. Turns around. And climbs to the light. Rides on a warm wave of... love. The knives are not coming back. He breathes normally._

"I think we got him back. Pulse is regular. Breathing back to normal. Phew, that was a tough ride! But I think he's OK now."

The monitor is beeping regularly now.

"Detective, your friend's gonna be all right."

"What... happened?" Starsky barely managed to ask, still crushed by the fear which had strangled his own heart. He was leaning on the wall, trying not to collapse on the floor.

"Seems he hesitated for a moment between letting go and fighting back."

Starsky couldn't speak.

"He's a real fighter. Your friend is out of danger now."

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(to be continued)


	27. Chapter 27

_Sow a thought_

 _You reap a desire_

 _Sow a desire_

 _You reap a habit_

 _Sow a habit_

 _You reap a character_

 _Sow a character_

 _You reap a destiny_

He didn't know where he had read that before. But the words kept tumbling in his head, as he was lying in his bed, an arm folded on the back of his head, resting on the pillow and the other hand flat on his heart.

The hospital had released him ten days ago with a prescription of analgesics in his pocket for the pain and a small neat scar across his chest for the memory. He wasn't supposed to resume his duties for another two weeks. At first, he thought the best thing for him would be to get back to work. ASAP. But now, as his fingers crawled their way into his shirt and touched the scar, he was submerged by a feeling of emptiness as if something precious had escaped through the wound.

Silence was what he feared most, especially at night, like the sound was suddenly shut down in the middle of a concert. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her, the contour of her face, the color of her hair, the light in her eyes. He was in love, still. He could tell. And knowing that he had been denied any more sweet moments with her slowly turned him into a shadow trying to move in a world he had no control upon, living an existence he was methodically trying to deny.

The nights were the worst moments to be alone. That's when he remembered most vividly the time he had shared moments with her, talking to her, trying to get to know her better, trying to give a meaning to the experience he was living. All he could hear at night was the sound of his own heart, ringing in his ears. And the sound of raindrops hitting the window pane. He just lay there, motionless, above the sheets, listening to the rain and crying himself to sleep.

Every morning, he woke up when the birds started to celebrate the new day. But he didn't listen to them. He got up, went to the bathroom, took a shower, listened to the sound of water running down his skin for a long time, went back to bed and stayed there, his eyes closed, listening, reaching out...

To nothing.

She was gone. For ever. He knew now.

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When the door opened again this morning, as every morning since he came back home, he didn't react. He heard footsteps and the familiar voice which had rescued him from hell, the sweet hell he didn't want to be delivered from in the first place. He heard someone approaching and didn't care to open his eyes to greet his friend.

"Hey!"

He didn't want to reply. To tell him what? To go away? He had tried that. Didn't work. To tell him he was in pain? The other one knew. To tell him to go to hell and leave him in peace? The other one wouldn't comply.

So he remained motionless and silent.

"Hey, there! Birdies are singing and it's a beautiful day!" claimed the voice in a happy mood. He heard the rattle of blinds being opened. But he didn't want to open his eyes. Not just yet.

"C'mon, get up, lazy! Look what I brought you!" The voice was so familiar that he could figure out, behind the safe protection of his closed eyelids, that the other man's eyes were sparkling and a big smile was stretching his mouth.

Then he felt the touch. The warmth of a hand gently squeezing his forearm. He felt a brief thrill as the skin of the other touched his own. But he didn't open his eyes. He turned his back on the other.

"Hey, what's the matter, Blondie? It's nine already. And the donuts are getting cold. C'mon."

"Not hungry."

"Good morning to you too! Now c'mon on." the other said, pulling his arm to force him to sit up.

"Go away!"

"Good, that's four words in a roll. Now try a bit more. Say _Good morning Starsk._ "

"Hmpf..."

"No. That doesn't sound like it. Repeat after me _Good Morning Starsk._ "

"I said... leave me alone!"

"No. What you said was _go away_. We gotta work on your memory patterns too, Buddy. Seems you need a load of calories to make that befuddled brain of yours work properly."

"Piss off!"

"Two more words. Not what I was expecting, but, there, you're still able to speak. That's a relief. Now we'll try on more complicated sentences. _Like how are you doing this morning, partner?_ "

"Don't wanna talk."

"Oh yes, you do."

"Go to hell!"

"Thanks, but no thanks. You were there and I didn't wanna join, remember? You needed someone with a clear mind to pull you back."

"Shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have what?"

"Should've let me there."

"Where?"

"..."

"Hello, is anybody home?" the other said, gently tapping with a finger on his head.

"Leave me alone, for Christ's sake."

"Wow! Congrats, a complete sentence! Now move your butt, Buddy. This has lasted long enough. How long do you intend to remain there, in that dark sulk of yours, acting as a bear hiding for winter? Look at you, you don't eat, you don't shave. »

"What for?"

"What for? Hey, are you trying to be funny? Who are you trying to fool, huh? You have been declared fit for life, pal! And whether you like it or not, you have a life, a body that needs to be fed, a job that needs to be taken care of..."

"Don't care."

"I'm not finished!" the other said brutally. "And a partner who needs the other half of his team. You've been declared fit for life, if not yet fit for duty. Too bad for you, lazy. Now get up and get a grip! C'mon, soldier, on your feet!"

"Fuck off, Starsk."

"Good, at least you still know who I am. And thanks for calling me Starsk, and not some other insult."

Hutch slowly turned around and opened his eyes. Starsky was sitting next to him and all he could see in his eyes right now was anger.

"Don't you try to push me away. 'Coz I'm gonna stick like glue and I won't leave this place until I'm sure you're properly fed and showered and ... just look at you. What's that beard you're growing? Trying to become the new Jeremiah Johnson? It doesn't suit you."

Hutch closed his eyes, put a hand on his chest and cried.

"I know, man, I know it hurts."

"Not..." Hutch's voice was broken and Starsky could hear the sob coming from far down his throat.

"Not what?"

"Not there."

"Where? What are you trying to tell me, Buddy?"

"It hurts."

"The scar? Is that what you mean? Your wound still hurts?"

"No."

"Oh. You mean it still hurts that you're here and she's not. Well, hear the news, Blondie, welcome back to the land of Reality!"

Hutch looked at his partner with an angry look.

"And don't you try to impress me with your devastating-angry-cop-mode look! I don't buy it."

Starsky saw the tears rolling freely down Hutch's cheeks and on his pillow.

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(to be continued)


	28. Finale

**_Well, this is it! I wish to extend my eternal gratitude to all of you who, week after week, read, commented, reviewed, liked, fav'd...  
_**

 ** _And more particularly to:  
Rosey Malone: you're one in a million, Dearest. A special huge thanks to you 3 :-) !  
Litany Riddle: heureuse que tu aies tenu le coup jusqu'au bout. Que penses-tu de ma fin?  
Hutch-is-gorgeous  
MaryEllen309  
Tullyfan  
Kristuite  
Dessertalicious  
Paula UK  
Acmabry  
Judith Goodger  
Judith41  
AlaskaMoose_**  
 _ **Martine1970**_  
 _ **And all those I may have missed, or who didn't leave a trace of their visit. I've seen so many visitors from so many countries!**_

 ** _You all made my day, one way or another. This project means so much to me, for so many reasons it'd take me another 20 chapters to explain.  
But be sure I was delighted to read your thoughts, to hear your shivering at the end of a chapter, to see your smiles when humor striked, to know you were there, craving for more.  
I'm gonna miss you all. Hey, you know what? I've got more in the pipeline for later.  
But right now, I'll concentrate on my next Supernatural multi-chapter one, which has been growing in my mind for too long.  
_**

 ** _Thanks again for being there. Sending lots of warm and positive vibes.  
Love,  
Lyxie_**

* * *

A few weeks after he was released from hospital, Hutch hadn't shown any sign of improvement, at least as far as his morale was concerned. His wound was healing just fine. The scar would not even be inelegant on his bare chest.

Hutch was moody most of the time. Stopped eating healthy food. Stopped shaving. Stopped sharing beers at the Pits. Even stopped teasing Starsky. He thought of going back to the shrink and swallowing anti-depressants again. But all this wasn't enough to discourage his loyal buddy guard.

Starsky had finally managed to get his friend to eat, shower, get a hair cut and shave.

For all those who knew Hutch, close friends or casual acquaintances, he was his normal self again. He talked, answered when questioned, smiled when appropriate, even blushed a little when congratulated on the outcome of the brunettes case. Huggy hadn't seen the blond detective in his establishment for a while and when visiting him in Venice, he saw a normal courteous Hutch. Even Dobey missed the tragedy. The one that was eating Hutch from the inside.

Starsky developed skills of patience and persuasion to make his friend understand another therapy would be useless. He wasn't mad. He wasn't becoming gay. He was just a bit depressed and needed to move on with his life. An argument Hutch brushed away with his hand.

But even Starsky's patience had its limits. And when he reached Venice Place, he promised himself this day would be the last of Hutch's dark days.

The sun was shining high in a clear blue sky. Starsky was whistling as he climbed the stairs to his friend's apartment. A simple knock on the door and he let himself in.

"Howdy, Blondie!"

Hutch was in the kitchen, preparing his usual morning breakfast fruit cocktail.

"Yeah! That's my Hutch. Good to see you're back. Hey... what's that you put in there?" he asked as Hutch was pouring a white powder in the juice."

"Soja."

"Figures! You're definitely back."

Hutch sighed, looked at the glass he just poured himself... and put it in the sink without drinking.

"No no no, Blondie, wrong move. You were in the mood to prepare that, now you're gonna drink it!"

"I'm not thirsty anymore."

"I don't care. Here," Starsky said taking the glass and forcing Hutch to grab it." Drink! Or I'll have Nurse Margaret come here and put you back on IV with that damn juice in it!"

Hutch managed a weak smile. Margaret was a fifty-two year old nurse, who was built like a fortress and had the voice of a hooligan's. She nevertheless was the best and most professional nurse Starsky had ever had the chance to meet. And most of all, she deserved a medal for making Hutch eat his first normal meal before he was even released from hospital. There was no arguing with her. All her patients felt like they were rookies facing a new maniac instructor.

And Hutch hadn't been an exception. As soon as she had decided he could take it, she started to push him until he found the limits of his resistance and finally complied with her orders. Of course, Starsky was playing dumb, ignoring the looks from Hutch when he was calling for help and offering his most charming smiles to Margaret when she had won a battle.

Hutch took the glass from Starsky's hand and drank it, reluctantly at first, then emptied the content with a grin.

"Attaboy! Now what do you say we go for a walk, huh?"

"Thanks, Starsky, but I... I'm tired."

"Don't wanna hear that! You've been resting for the whole week-end and I've been working like a mad man, I need a break, fresh air. The sun is shining. The birds are singing."

"Starsky..." Hutch was dragging his feet back to the couch." Starsky caught him by the arm before he could reach it.

"Forget it! Here, take your jacket... On second thought, you don't need it. It's beautiful outside. And the sun will do you good. C'mon!" he said, pulling Hutch's arm and forcing him to follow him down the stairs.

When they were out of the building, Starsky stretched his back and drew a circle around his body with his arms.

"Just breathe in, Blondie."

"I'm breathing." Hutch answered in a monotone voice.

"Like a robot all right. Where's my co-called sporty partner who used to jog several miles before breakfast?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"Not in the mood? Let's see... don't act like the ultimate victim, OK?"

"I don't get it."

"The most powerful weapon of the oppressor is the mind of the victim. You're just oppressing yourself right now. So give your mind a truce."

"Starsky, listen..." Hutch started as he stopped and showed he wanted to go back to the apartment. "I prefer to rest for now. I'm too tired."

"And I'm tired of seeing you like this. Sit down."

They had walked to the beach and Starsky sat on a bank along the "promenade".

"C'mon, I said sit down. You can rest here as well as on your bloody couch. And at least, you're in the open here. SIT!"

Hutch complied and reluctantly sat next to his partner.

Silence reigned for a moment between them as Starsky was watching the sea and the birds and the clouds. Hutch had stretched his long legs and was staring at his feet.

"There is one thing I want to ask you, though." Starsky said, as if the conversation had never paused.

"And what is that?"

"How did you manage to catch that fucking knife before it pierced your heart?"

Hutch closed his eyes and put a hand on his chest, right where the weapon had cut the skin.

"I don't know. I... saw it coming and I... just reacted on instinct."

"Talk about fast as lightning. I never saw anyone do this. The doctor said it was some kind of miracle."

"Starsky, pleeeease!"

"What? You should be happy. For one, you had these ... intuitions, which led us right to the fifth victim and you rescued her from a horrible death."

"You killed the guy."

"OK, but if it weren't for you, she'd be dead by now. Two, you saved your own life with an extraordinary reflex I've never seen anyone have."

"Just lucky, I guess."

"Lucky. Are you kidding? This ought to be in the Guinness Book of Records! Lightning Hutch. That's what they should call you now!"

"Starsky, don't!"

"Don't I what?"

"Don't start to circulate a new nickname for me, please."

"But..."

"I mean it, Starsky!"

"OK. As you wish. But I'd like to ask you something."

"Go ahead." Hutch's voice was not as dull as a few minutes before. It seemed as if being outside of his confined apartment was somehow making him feel really better.

"Did she... I mean, you looked kinda hypnotized when we were at Ellie's. Did... Marie talk to you?"

Hutch didn't answer right away. He looked at his friend, intensely, for a long while before he answered.

"No. But... she was there when I was in intensive care. She... came to say goodbye."

"Oh, I see."

"Starsky..."

"Yes?"

Starsky refrained from talking, he wanted his friend to let it all out, all by himself.

"I didn't have the chance to say goodbye properly, I wanted to hold her, I wanted her to stay. I... I couldn't take her hand and hold her back, she faded away and I ..."

Starsky's eyes were filled with compassion and tenderness. His friend had the same look in his eyes as the day he found Gillian lying on the floor, and all he wanted at that time was to wrap Hutch in his unconditional love and care. Today, he knew his friend's heart was still aching, and it had nothing to do with the wound. The pain was deeper, a cruel pain no one but him could see. That awful pain which wasn't visible in the flesh. He could see it in his eyes. He could hear it in his voice.

Somehow, Starsky was afraid that this time, the healing process would take much longer, if not an entire lifetime and he wasn't sure anymore he was up to the task that awaited him.

"Let's go get something to eat." Starsky stood up and extended a hand to Hutch to help him up, although his friend was fit enough now to handle.

"Starsk..."

"I like the sound of that! _Starsk_... I thought you'd forgotten. You know, Starsk, Buddy, pal, Me and Thee... that sort of things. You've been calling me _Starsky_ for the last hour and I miss the old times."

"Oh. I didn't even realize I was calling you that."

"It's OK, Lightnin- sorry! I promised!"Starsky quickly said when he saw Hutch's expression. "C'mon, I'll buy you lunch."

"It's too early for that."

"Who cares? Today is a new day, I guarantee it. Something special is on its way, I can feel it."

"Starsk... it's just the ocean breeze."

"Hey, what do I care? Feels gooood!" Starsky lifted his head and smelled the air with contentment.

Hutch smiled.

"Careful, you're gonna pull a muscle!" Starsky was frolicking around his partner, like a young puppy walking without a leash for the first time.

"I really made an ass of myself, didn't I?"

"Nah! Not more than usual!"

Hutch stretched his lips, a bit amused now.

"Careful, that's two in a row. If you go on like, this, you're gonna be infected for the rest of your life."

"I'm trying to overcome all this, Starsk, but … I mean, there is..."

"What? Spit it out! Gee, I hate it when you're beating around the bush."

"I can't help thinking about her, Starsk."

"Oh, that lovely-special-try-to-catch-me-if-you-can Marie?"

"Don't mock me!"

"What am I supposed to do? Launch an ABP on Marie Lombard, age: unknown, aspect: unknown, last known residence: the Twilight Zone? Is that it?"

"I'm aware this sounds... but she was so real to me, Starsk. She was in my head, in my heart, like no other woman before. I could feel her thoughts, share deep feeling like I've never shared my most intimate feelings with anyone, not even you. It was like... I don't know... like conjoined twins in their mother's womb."

Starsky choked on his saliva.

"Wow, hold your horses, Shakespeare! This is going a bit too fast for me."

"But that's what I felt when I was with her. How do you suppose I can get over this kind of relationship easily, huh? Please, tell me! I'm all ears."

"Er..."

"See?"

Starsky felt embarrassed now. Of course, he and Terry had a sweet and wonderful if too short romance. He knew what it was like having butterflies in your stomach when the other one was around, he knew all about the symphonies he heard while sharing a quiet moment in a silent room with her, he knew... of course, he knew. And he hadn't forgotten. He stopped making faces and offered Hutch a contrite look.

"I know, pal. I know it hurts, and let me tell you this: it's gonna hurt for a long time. You never get over it completely. It's now part of you, it nested in your heart, and it colored your soul with a different rainbow. And this is what you gotta remember when it rains: the rainbow she brought you when she was with you. Just remember her, and she will always be around, somehow."

"Starsk..."

They remained silent and watched the ocean and the skies above and they listened to the music of the waves. Their own music was playing again for them. One nobody else could hear. Hutch took a deep breath, barely felt the scar stretching in the process. Starsky sighed.

"Hey, didn't I promise you lunch?"

"Yep. You did."

"C'mon, see if we can catch you something bad for your health!"

"I'll follow you this time."

"Only this time?"

"Hey, don't push it, Buddy."

"You may call me Buddy Guard."

"Yes, Sir!"

They walked back to the apartment. Hutch rapidly changed and followed Starsky to the Torino.

The day was hot. They were driving to the outskirts, where Starsky had spotted a new restaurant he wanted to try. They had opened all the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air. Starsky was driving in relax mode, his arm leaning out of the window.

Hutch was more relaxed than he'd been in weeks. But in the corner of his mind, he was secretly hoping for a glimmer of echo, a tiny sign that he hadn't lost everything. He closed his eyes now and then, trying to remember Marie's face. Her eyes. Her hair. Her smile. Her tears. Her touch. The taste of her lips. He opened his eyes and licked his lower lip without paying attention. That's the moment when Starsky turned his head to him and saw.

"Thirsty?"

"Er... yeah. It's so hot now."

 _That's it, Blondie. Keep it to yourself. But you won't fool me. I know what, or who you were thinking of. And I don't mind. How could I be jealous? Jealous of the place she took in your heart. I know mine is secure. But I'm just wondering... will you ever let another woman touch you the way she did? Will you ever allow yourself to fall in love again? I surely hope so. Even if I have to push you into their arms. You've got so much love to share. And it's high time you found one who will finally wrap around your finger and let you place a ring on hers. You look a bit miserable right now, but a bit less than a few weeks ago. You don't need to tell me. I can see it. And believe it or not, I'll keep my mouth shut. I'll just watch from a distance. And... cross my fingers._

Instinctively, Starsky crossed the forefinger and the middle finger of his left hand. Hutch didn't notice.

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After they had lunch in a small Mexican restaurant, Starsky suggested that they go back to Venice and play a game of Monopoly. The outside temperatures had suddenly raised and Hutch was bothered by the heat. He was sweating and his shirt was clinging to his skin. Starsky wasn't in better shape, but at least, he didn't have to cope with side-effects from the antibiotics which Hutch had to take to prevent infection after he got stabbed.

They were reaching a crossroads and the lights turned to red. Starsky stopped the Torino and looked around, old cop's reflex to check the neighborhood. That's when he saw a little dark blue car with the hood open, pulled over on the right side of the street, about fifty yards ahead of them. From where he was, all he could see was a pair of legs, which seemed to belong to a woman bending over the engine. When the light turned to green, Starsky drove slowly and parked behind the little blue car.

"What's the matter?" Hutch asked.

"Hey, rescue time." Starsky replied in a joyful tone.

"They probably called for a tow truck already."

"You don't know that. And the police motto is _to protect and to serve_. So I'll see whether I can do the latter."

"As you wish."

"You stay here. It's too hot for you outside."

"Yes Mom."

Starsky smiled.

Hutch stayed.

And closed his eyes.

And thought.

About _her_.

Again.

But he could also hear the conversation going on a couple of yards ahead of the Torino.

"Hello, Miss? Can I be of assistance?"

"Hi. I don't know. This car has brought me nothing than trouble since I bought it."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I was driving along and all of a sudden, there was a weird noise and the engine just choked. I had to pull over because there was a strange smell"

"Maybe it would be more prudent to leave it here and call a tow truck to bring it to a garage."

"But I have an appointment this afternoon!"

"Perhaps I can drive you to where you have to go, Miss?"

"Who are you, the Good Samaritan; I don't even know who you are!"

Starsky showed his badge.

"Oh. Sorry," she said. "It's just that..."

"Yes?"

"You don't look like a police officer."

"You can't judge a book by its cover, as they say, right?"

She had a quick look at the car parked behind hers.

"And that sure doesn't look like a police car either."

"But it's all yours for the next couple of hours, if you'd accept our hospitality."

"I don't know. Shit! I'm already late!" she was losing her temper.

"If you explained what happened, I'm sure..."

"But I was supposed to apply for a new job, one I've wanted for months, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!" she shouted.

Hutch suddenly opened his eyes.

Stepped out of the car.

Walked slowly to the little blue car.

Saw her.

Stared at her.

Smiled.

"Hello."

"Hi. Why are you staring at me?"

Hutch didn't reply. He looked at her even more intently and noticed the little silver pendant she was wearing around her neck. A pendant with a letter. She saw his eyes and put a hand on her throat, as if he had been reaching to open the buttons of her blouse.

"M for _Marie_?" He had pronounced it properly, not like "Mary".

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Er... yeah... how would you...?"

"Just a hunch."

Starsky stared at Hutch, then at … Marie. And smiled in turn.

The two in front of him were looking at each other, as if they were alone in the universe, lost in a land where only matched souls recognize each other, where the stars sing to those who can listen to the right melody, where the rain only falls to prepare the skies for a new rainbow to appear.

Hutch took a step toward her. She took a step toward him.

No word.

Only eyes talking to each other.

And remembering how they...

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(to be concluded?)

 _"What is that?"_

 _"It's a manuscript I found at the bottom of this box."_

 _"Let me have a look. Hmm... The Buddy Guard. Sounds like a spy novel."_

 _"Not at all. It tells the story of a policeman falling in love with the author of the story he's living."_

 _"Sounds weird to me!"_

 _"I just read it. It's kinda cool."_

 _"How does it end?"_

 _"Seems the author didn't finish it."_

 _"Great! No wonder it was abandoned at the bottom of an old box."_

 _"Too bad. I really liked it and wanted to know more."_

 _"Why don't you figure out the rest of it? You always pride yourself on your imagination!"_

 _"I won't. Not this time. There is no fate written for any of us. We write our destiny as we go along. And... I have a feeling that... their future belongs to them... Still, I wonder what the hell happened to the puppy..."_

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THE END

or the beginning?


End file.
